Happy Birthday, Sweetheart
by BecauseIHurtSo
Summary: The story of how Draco Malfoy came to be Draco Potter, Harry Potter's slave wife.Story told through snapshots of their lives. Snarky!Bottom!Draco and Lovey-Dovey!Possessive!Harry. AU but contains magic. Nearly done; two chapters left.
1. Welcome Home, Draco

The first time I was checked _that_ way, I was sixteen years, eleven months, and 29 days old.

It was immediately following Shacklebolt's declaration that all pureblooded children from the losing (Voldemort's) side of the war were to be rounded up and placed in camps. They were said to be debriefing camps, meant to show us all of the horrifying images of what we helped accomplish during Voldemort's reign of terror, but they weren't. Not nearly. Instead, they were more closely related to that muggle maniac, Hitler's, concentration camps.

They threw us all into tiny cells, took our wands, and crucioed us into stupors. We sat huddled in those musty, stale rooms for weeks on end, with nothing but one another's company. Then, they tagged us. Not just our wands, but our bodies. Hardly detectable unless you're really looking, there is a small, peachy toned number on the fleshy underside of my left knee. Pureblood- 432562. That was my number, and the way they called us in for questioning, which was just a polite way of saying torture session. We felt worse than animals, at least animals were allowed to roam around in their pastures; we, on the other hand, were made to crouch until our leg muscles quivered and shook from exertion.

And then, the worst. The day Kingsley Shaklebolt put us up for sale was, undoubtedly, the worst of day of my entire life. I was only one day from being a free man, one day from my seventeenth birthday, the year of majority in Great Britain. But, that day, Shacklebolt put us up for sale like the animals we felt inferior to. Repeatedly doused in cold water, they, the very people who were supposed to be keeping us safe, shoved us toward a very clinical looking building with strict instructions not to wander away under the penalty of death. There, a doctor inspected me, ensuring that I was healthy enough, pureblood, and a…a virgin. I won't go into the dirty details as to how they figured that out, but, rest assured, it was awful.

I must have been a hot commodity, because when the rest of the purebloods were hustled back to the cells, I was chained to a large pole outside along with a very exotic looking Asian women and a huge muscled up brunet man who was fighting against his restraints with everything in him. I suppose, not for the first time, my aristocratic good looks saved me. We were bound and blindfolded, led to a platform inside of an air conditioned space, stumbling the whole way. When they removed the blindfolds, we were inside of a very familiar, beautifully decorated room in front of an audience of impeccably dressed men and women holding numbered cards. Those damned Aurors had taken my family's beautiful home and turned it into an auction house!

* * *

><p>Misuzu, the gorgeous woman of Asian descent, and Adrian, the muscly jock, were sold before me and very quickly, in a flurry of raised cards and quiet murmuring. All too soon, it was my turn. I felt a flood of heat rise up through my body and promptly gave myself a good scolding, after all they had been staring at me for a good twenty minutes before my name was next to be called. I prepared to step forward when a rather untidily raven haired Auror jumped in front of the podium.<p>

"Ladies and gentleman, I realize that the young mister Malfoy was led here to be put on sale, but unless you are willing to pay upwards from 750,000 galleons for him, you may go. Also, don't forget to pick up your acquired merchandise on your way out." said the rather deep voice.

It was with great nausea that I realized that the word "merchandise" was referring to Misuzu and Adrian; as if we were nothing but pieces of furniture to be gathered at their leisure. I pushed down the bile and glanced up through my lashes to see well over three-fourths of the room rise from their seats to exit my Manor. The few still seated were a collection of the oldest, stuffiest men I had ever seen gathered in one place, plus the sloppy haired male that cleared the majority of the people from the room.

When my name was called, I stepped shyly forward into the spotlight, eyes downcast. It was with hushed tones that the auctioneer began the bidding at thrice was Misuzu was sold for. At the beginning, the pompous old men were good-natured to each other, smiling and laughing as the price was driven up to one million galleons, but by the three million mark, they were sweating profusely and cursing under their breaths as my price kept soaring. They dropped out, one by one conceding to each other, until a particularly cruel looking man was the only one with his card up, my price at five million, five hundred thousand galleons. The auctioneer looked faint with excitement as he called out, asking for a higher bid. When it seemed like no one else was going to answer, he called out the goings. I had resided myself to a life of hard work with this man, when a deep, sure voice called out,

"Ten million galleons for the gorgeous blonde with the sparkling grey eyes!"

The auctioneer's eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the floor.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for buying me, sir." I murmur my appreciation to my savior.<p>

He let out a small chuckle as he bundled me into his huge muggle automobile. He adjusted my seat and jogged to the driver's side, pulling the door closed behind him. I practically tittered in excitement; Finally, finally, I would get to have a clear look at my savior's face and something told me he was-

"Potter?" I exclaimed, attempting to jump back, but snapped still by the band around my chest and lap.

The chuckle turned into a full bellied guffaw and tears of mirth ran down his face. I stayed stock still, hoping this was just some kind of elaborate joke. At last, Potter's laughter died down and he turned his full gaze upon me, green eyes still glittering.

"Hello, Draco." He started, a merry tone still in his voice, "It's Auror Potter, now. Or Master, if you wanna get real technical about it."

"Oh." There wasn't very much to say after that. After all, what can you say when your childhood enemy just saved you from a fate worse than death? Alright, so I realize that being a cleaning person isn't that bad, but for a Malfoy….insert shiver.

* * *

><p>We arrived at the Potter Manor a few hours after my purchase. He grabbed what few belongings I was allowed to have in my cell and strode up to the façade, expecting me to follow. I did, and was surprised when he led me through a series of hallways and stairways to what looked like the master suite. I arrived just as Potter snapped his fingers and sorted my clothing into drawers on the right side of the room. I dragged my sandaled foot along the plush white carpeting, and surveyed the area around me. The décor was cool and reminded me of the ocean, with its blue walls and brown and white theme. The chests and wardrobes in the room were made of bleached pine and dark walnut, and blended in perfectly with the feel of the room. But, most surprisingly, the room looked lived in. Not previously lived in way, but in a this-is-currently-someone's-bedroom way.<p>

"Er, Potter?" I glanced up at him, one of my teeth sunk into my lower lip.

"Yes, Draco?" He was sitting on the bed, removing his shoes and socks one at a time. When I spoke, he looked up, all of his attention suddenly focused on me.

"Is this," I break off, moistening my lips, "Is this my room?"  
>He slowly shook his head, a half grin on his mouth. I swallowed.<p>

"Is it _your_ room?" I put extra emphasis on the "your", wondering how I knew that the answer would probably be-

"Nope." The p-sound exploded from his lips and the grin over took his entire face.

Then, it dawned on me. Why he was tucking his shoes under the bed, why there were so many wardrobes, and why his grin had such a naughty edge to it.

"This is our room, isn't it?" I asked slowly, praying for a negative answer.

But, the only answer I got was Potter rising off of the bed and using those strong, Auror-training-toned legs to stride over to me. He gazed down at me, his eyes clearly searching my face for any reaction other than positive. I managed a slightly queasy smile. It must have done its job, because then Harry crushed me to his chest in a, what I would soon learn were his legendary, bone-crunching hug. Then, then he tilted my head up so that our faces were mere centimeters apart. His sweet, cinnamon scented breath washed over me and I had the overwhelming desire to kiss him. So, I did. I stretched up on my tip-toes and pushed my plush lips to his wind-chapped ones, half expecting to be pushed away.

But, he didn't. He held me close for a few more seconds, and then backed away, taking my hand. He led me to the bathtub, where he magicked perfectly warm water in. He undressed me, like a sleepy child, and lifted me in to the bath, ever so gently. As I made soft splashing noises, shifting in the deliciously clean water, he watched me from the side of the tub, a dreamy expression on his handsome face. When it was time to exit the tub, he conjured up two plush towels: a smaller one for my hair and a large one for my body. He toweled me off carefully and moved on to detangling my, then shoulder length, locks. By that point, I was nearly asleep; I was so comforted by the attentions he was paying me. I found my head nodding off to the side just as he finished, placing the whale bone bristle brush on top of the bureau that he stated was mine. I was preparing to stand up, albeit very wobbly, when he scooped me into his arms. He was very warm and solid against my naked skin. I felt him shift my slight weight around so that he could pull back the bedspread, then I was tucked into soft silk sheets, much like the ones I had at my Father's house before the Aurors hunted us down. I snuggled into my down pillow, already starting to drift off, when I felt the shock of naked skin sliding against mine.

I immediately stiffened up, inching my way away, but the soft hands that spent an hour running through my hair became like rope, reeling me in closer to Potter's unclothed front. I let out little panicking noises and fought against him as much as I could, but eventually, he settled me close to him, effectively making me his little spoon. I could feel his cock twitching every so often, nestled just behind me, and his even breaths tickled the backs of my ears. It took a while, but I finally relaxed, and when I did, I was surprised to hear him murmur after peeking behind him to look at the clock:

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart."


	2. You Look Like a Whole New You, Baby

I awoke the next morning to a calloused hand smoothing up and down my pale chest.

Unlike last night, I didn't stiffen up; after all, it wasn't a bad feeling, just strange. He was whispering softly in Latin, causing little goose bumps to rise on my entire body and tiny shivers and quakes to rack through me. I'd never thought the language affected me so, but I never would have thought to become a slave either. As he whispered, his hand continued to slowly travel across my torso in idle looping patterns for at least twenty minutes before Potter slid away from me, rolling off of the obscenely large bed. I prepared to open my eyes, just in case Potter was going to shake me until I awoke or something, but there were just some soft murmurings, presumably to a house elf, and then I heard the shower going off in the master bath. With no one left in the room to watch me, I stretched myself out and released a loud yawn.

Glancing around, I wondered how much time I had until Potter came out and tried to initiate conversation with me. The drapes had been thrown open and beautiful sunlight was streaming in, casting a sort of heavenly glow about everything. I scooted over to the side of the bed and stood up, cautiously walking toward the French doors that led to the balcony overlooking the land that Potter Manor rested upon. I inched them apart, sparing a quick glance back at the bathroom door, where my master was still in the shower, and gasped.

The night before, I had been too distressed to note the surroundings, but this morning, the full beauty of the land hit me. The acres and acres of trees were beginning to change colors for the fall; the sky was cloudless and extended for as far as my eye could see. In the horizon, I could just make out the glinting of a lake or pond of some sort. There was a rose garden planted on the outskirts of the forest, with every color imaginable in bloom, from classic red to violet blue to a delicate gray. The grounds were very obviously well kept, bird baths and fountains set up in strategic areas and seemingly random plots of violets and baby's breath scattered. It truly was breathtaking, which was most likely what Potter had been going for. Seems like he'd grown up in the eight or so months I had been in the detainment camp.

I really could have stayed there for hours, just drinking in the natural beauty that was Potter Estates, but I really wanted to get some exploring done before he hauled me off to some place or another. With a heaving sigh, I took one final look at the scenery and turned back to the white washed French doors. I pushed them forward and took a quick peek around. The coast seemed all clear, so I stepped quietly forward back into the bedroom. As I closed the doors behind me, a loud crack and then a distressed looking house elf appeared before me. Before I could open my mouth, it began screeching in that irritatingly grating voice that house elves had.

"Oh, Mistress be awake! Mitsy be thinking Mistress had the wanting for more sleep, but here Mistress be awake! Mistress be needing clothes, yes?" At this, the homely thing grabbed my hand and hauled me closer to the wardrobes to the side of the room. "Mitsy not be believing that Mistress not set off Mitsy's wizard alarm. Mistress must be weaker than Mitsy thought."

It riffled through the entirety of the wardrobe, which was filled with vaguely girly looking things and pulled a plain, long sleeved white blouse and a knee-length black silk skirt, with the constellation Draco embroidered on it in white thread. I looked at them incredulously; surely it didn't think that I would wear such garments?

"Thank you ever so much, Mitsy, but I'm male. See?" I gestured down toward my genitalia, which were still out from my bath last night.

The creature didn't even bat an eyelash, simply opened a lower drawer and fished out a pair of lacy undergarments with the tags still attached and handed them to me. I flipped the tag over; reading the label, I noted that the little scrap of fabric was nothing to sneeze at. I tried to hand them back to her, but she pushed them towards me shaking her head, muttering something along the lines of "Master's orders." and creature-apparating away.

I shrugged; I was sure Potter would have stranger requests for me before all was said and done, and slipped the soft blouse onto my arms. It may have looked plain, but the fabric was absolutely cloudlike to the touch. With a slight blush, I shimmied the panties- and that's what they were, no use deluding either of us about that- up and fingered the skirt. Just like the blouse, it was unbelievably soft, and clearly meant for me; he did go through the trouble of personalizing it for my constellation, after all. So, I slipped the fabric up onto my waist without a second thought, wondering in the back of my mind when my hips had gotten so wide.

It sometimes amuses me to wonder what would have happened if I had refused the skirt that day. Would Harry have conceded, allowing me to keep my intrinsic manhood or would he have forced the feminization upon me even more quickly than he did? But, I didn't refuse the skirt and Harry didn't have to force me, so it's of no use for me to cry over spilled floo powder now, is it?

Anyhow, somewhere between my landscape gazing and getting dressed, Harry had exited the shower without my knowledge. I had just finished smoothing the hem of my skirt down when he appeared in front of me in just a towel, dripping water onto our bedroom carpet. I jumped back and squeaked in surprise; he moved very silently for someone so muscled.

"Good morning, princess." He said with a smile, hungrily eying my body up and down. The outfit didn't show much skin, but what little it did was hairless and more than just a tad softer and less toned than I remembered.

I felt his gaze settle heavy upon my skin and nodded.

"Good morning, Harry." His given name felt awkward in my mouth.

"You look very pretty today." He stated politely, turning away to sort through his own clothes.

"Th-thank you." I stuttered, surprised that he would drop his towel without any notice.

His tan skin fairly rippled as he moved things to and fro in his wardrobe, the muscles of his back popping up and down in a mesmerizing way. At least having some decency, I skipped over his arse and allowed my eyes to roam up and down his legs. Even when he wasn't in motion, the tense muscles of his thighs and calf looked mouthwatering and I may or may not have let out a miniscule whimper when he whipped around to face me, shrugging his own long sleeved shirt on, though his was black.

His abs were solid and completely defined; I was able to count six faint lines on his lightly furry torso. His pectorals were likewise perfect, with brown puffy nipples just begging to be sucked and bitten. And then my eyes drifted downward, where I saw _it_, the mammoth that Harry planned to use on me one day. Just one peek at it in its flaccid state and my heart was racing, but at the same time, I couldn't wait to wrap my hands around, my lips around it. I had most definitely zoned out and Harry was amusedly waving his large hand in my face.

"- there, Draco?"

"Whuh-huh?" I asked eloquently, shaking my head to clear it.

He chuckled, putting his hand back down to tug up the white trousers he had selected. "I said, 'Would you like me to brush your hair out for you again today, sweetheart?'" he zipped them up and looked at me expectantly.

I blushed at the endearment and nodded shyly. Harry grasped my hand in his big warm one and tugged me over to the same vanity where he had sat me to do the same task last night. Everything looked the same, except for the face in the mirror. The beauty's eyes widened in abject horror as I brought my hand up to prod at his face… which was clearly mine too. The face overall was heart shaped, a much more demure look than the ovular shape of my previous one. Gone were my heavy brows to be replaced with delicately plucked ones. My signature pointed chin and aristocratic cheekbones were lost to this face; instead, the chin was much softer and rounder and the cheeks covered in a soft layer of fat. The eyelashes were still white blonde, thank goodness, but they were much longer, thicker and curlier. My eyes looked seemingly the same, but I did notice that the shape was slightly less round than before. And the lips…the lips were a rosy red and looked plump to bursting. _Perfect cock sucking lips_, I couldn't help but note at the time. This face, my face, could've belonged to a woman, it was so androgynous.

"D'you like it?" Harry asked, picking up the whale bone brush and parting my hair to the side as though absolutely nothing was wrong.

I nodded absently, still in shock. So this was why Harry's Latin had caused shivers; he had been manipulating my features! The face in the mirror was aesthetically pleasing and no more attractive than what I used to look like; this face just had a feminine edge to it, whereas the one before it was more classically handsome, like the statue of David. If I looked hard enough, I could still see traces of Mummy and Father in my reflection; my mother's tiny almost elf-like ears and the signature Malfoy aristocratic nose had kept their places on my visage, albeit my nose had been shortened slightly.

Yes, the face was nice, but….how dare he? How dare he change my face without my consent? I was perfect just the way I was, pointed facial features and all. I couldn't help but fume at him in my mind. Okay, so he legally owned me and yeah, I was pretty much at his mercy, but damn it! There were only so many things that I had left, and my face was one of them. It was the one thing that had stayed constant through my hellacious life, and now...now it wasn't just my freedom that was taken, it was my identity. If I couldn't sneer like Draco Malfoy, who exactly was I?

"I told you looked pretty today, didn't I?" he smirked at my reflection, a sly expression on his face as he continued smoothing out the waves I had acquired in sleep.

"That you did." I answered woodenly. His fingers raked forward, giving me bangs that were slightly too long. I blew them up and out of my new face, shielding my eyes from the feathery hair.

"Want me to shorten them for you?" he asked, reaching down to take his wand from his holster. Without any preface, he singed my bangs off to an acceptable length.

All too soon, Harry was done, slipping a black headband with a white bow on top over my newly styled hair.

"Come along, Draco. After breakfast, we've much to get accomplished today."

I looked at him questioningly; I was still far too stunned to speak.

"Well, you didn't think the Lady of the Manor would go without presents on her birthday, did you?"

Stunned further, I shook my head slowly, not bothering to correct him. It was then that it began to dawn on me just what I was in for.


	3. Sweetie, I'll Never Let You Go

Lady of the Manor.

I suppose that's exactly what I was. A lady. The title, the clothes, the hair, I most certainly had the face. But, it wasn't how I felt. I felt confused, conflicted, regretful, and remorseful. How could I let Harry treat me this way? Why wasn't I putting up more of a fight? Surely, if I told him how I felt, he'd let up or at least let me keep my dignity. But, at the same time, I couldn't help but be grateful. I was well clothed, well fed, and well looked after. I could've been nothing more than free labor, no better than a house elf, but Harry didn't treat me that way. As far as I'd seen, he had treated me like a…well, like a queen.

* * *

><p>"Dray?" and then there was a hand rubbing my sleep warmed back.<p>

I rolled over onto my back, pushing my sleep mask up and onto my forehead, and there was Harry, looking as cheerful and delectable as ever in a V-necked casual shirt and pair of dark, almost black, denim blue jeans, holding a breakfast tray in one hand, a vase filled with grey roses in the other. I blinked sleepily at him, and a delighted smile lit up his face.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." He sounded exceptionally happy, even for Harry. I sat up and scooted back so that I could brace my back on the wrought iron headboard while holding the tray.

Harry shook his head and placed it to on my bedside table, that smile still shining bright. "I thought I'd feed it to you this morning." He clambered up beside me, placing a chaste kiss on my lips after he got settled.

"That's kind of you." I said, my voice still a bit thick from sleep. He kissed the top of my head and threw an arm around my shoulders, cuddling me closer to his hard body.

"So," he started, picking up a utensil and spooning up some oatmeal into my waiting mouth, "I thought we could go to the hospital today." He said it with an air of nonchalance as if going to the hospital were no worse than going on a walk through our rose gardens.

I swallowed my mouthful and reached for a napkin. "L'hopital?" I asked after thoroughly wiping my face.

He nodded and picked up a strawberry, pressing it to my pursed lips, "Open up." When I complied, he continued, "Yes, the hospital. I need to get you a check up to ensure that the changes I've made to your physique are satisfactory enough to enable you to bear children."

Ah, so there it was. The c-word. In the month or so after my purchase, he'd mentioned the word at least twice a day, every day. Just the day before, he'd asked me what names I would have chosen if I'd remained free. I told him that I'm very partial to the names Scorpius Hyperion and Narcissa Lucinda. My father wanted to name me Scorpius, but my mother had insisted on carrying on the tradition of constellation names for the Black children, henceforth, Draco. As for Narcissa Lucinda, well, I just wished to honor my parents. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel on their deaths. I know those Aurors, perhaps Auror Potter included, killed my parents in their quest to collect me from our home, and I'll wish they were alive until the day I die, but at the same time, I'm glad they're gone. I wouldn't have wanted them to have to suffer through this new world. If I thought I'd had it bad as a child in the Death Eater detainment camps, then the adults were miserable, having all been sentenced to life in Azkaban, with dementors residing it their very same rooms. Father may have been able to live with it; he was a very resilient man, but it would have killed my delicate mother within weeks.

"Don't wander off, darling." Harry yanked gently on one of my low pigtails.

"Sorry, Harry. But, couldn't we just preform a quick good health spell here, at the house?" I turned to him, making puppy eyes.

"No, pumpkin. We've got to go out in public, eventually." He tapped my nose so that he could insert another bite of eggs. "And don't think you've pulled the wool over my eyes; I know you're ashamed to be seen out with me in the magical world."

I lowered my eyes at that and finished chewing. He was right. I didn't want any of the people I used to know to find out that I had been enslaved. I was Draco Malfoy- well, by that time, I'd found out that I was a Potter, but still! I used to look down my nose at people for not being born of the right blood, and now…now I was just a glorified whore. To a half blood, no less!

"Ouch!" Harry had sunk his teeth into my plump lower lip.

"I'm not going to ask you again to listen to me when I speak to you, Dray. Now, I don't want to be forced to use Legilemency to read your thoughts, but I will if I need to." Harry warned in a voice that sounded quite stern as he popped a bit of bagel between my parted lips, "Now, after you drink your orange juice, you are going to get dressed, do your hair plus make up, and mentally prepare yourself to go to the hospital; I'll not have you insulting everyone who crosses our paths." He handed me the fluted glass.

I couldn't believe he dared to tell me how to behave. Even at that point, I was clearly a fantastic person; just because I started a fight with the muggle car salesperson on my birthday didn't mean that I wasn't well behaved.

I placed the glass to the side and attempted to crawl off of the bed, but an arm wrapped around my midsection stopped me. "Yes?" I asked in the most patient voice I could muster.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" His green eyes sparkled mischievously at me.

He was expecting a kiss in thanks for all of his hard work, and who was I to deny him? So, I pushed myself back on his lap, ignoring his cock, which was twitching happily under my bum, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I watched with a smirk as his pupils dilated and his breathing hitched. This man was truly in to me.

"You want a kissy?" I asked in a low, seductive voice, blowing warm air into the crook of his neck. "Is that what you want?" And they thought I was an innocent- ha!

He nodded rapidly, leaning forward ever so slightly. I pressed my quirked lips to his sinfully soft ones slowly, trailing one of my hands up his neck to push into his soft raven curls; he let out a soft groan at the feel of my nails caressing his skin, so I continued tracing the bump of his vertebrae. My eyes fell closed and I started to feel the arousal that was rolling off of Harry in waves; his magic was just that powerful. His skin smelled wonderfully of the masculine body wash that I chose for him and his skin was unbelievably warm and cozy, his hands resting comfortably on my new hips. I could feel the tickle of his untamable fringe against my forehead and the fluttering of his pulse through his hands. His magic wrapped around us and reacted with my own, creating feelings of happiness and contentment with just a smidgeon of lust.

When we broke apart, both of our chests were heaving.

"That was-" I started, that familiar blush creeping up my cheeks.

"Wow." He finished for me, flushing just as hard.

I pulled away from him, intent on crawling away to finish my embarrassment in private. "Is that all?" I asked in a voice too squeaky to be my own.

"No." he looked at me irritably and reached over for his wand, twirling it between his fingers. "I need to fix your voice."

"M-my voice?" I stuttered incredulously. Honestly, I felt like the little ginger merperson in that movie made by the American anti-Semitic Harry made me watch with him the other night. Come to think of it, she ended up with the handsome, tan, messy haired brunet too. Though mine is the Savior and hers was merely a prince. Haha, I topped her.

"Yes. You still sound rather mannish, Draco. You'll need to interact with the hospital staff if we want to have things done right, and the majority of them think you are a woman. Therefore, it only makes sense for you to have a higher voice." He motioned me closer, pointing his wand at my throat.

"You'll revert it when we come back, right?" I asked, wary of his spelling.

He lowered his wand, "Why would I do that?" he sounded truly clueless.

"Because, Harry," I started, clearly enunciating my words, "I like my manly voice; I am a _man_ after all."

"We've gone over this, honey." That patronizing stupid smile was back, "You aren't a man. You're my wife, the future mother of my children. You can't be a man. You're too beautiful to be a man."

He nodded to himself, seemingly pleased with his answer. "Plus, I'm straight. You've just got a few extra parts, but they can stay; after your voice, we won't need to change anything else about you, my sweet."

I stared at him, my jaw metaphorically on the ground. "And just what loony bin have you escaped from, Potter?"

And just like that, we were back at Hogwarts and feuding again.

"I'm not loony, Dray; you're the one who keeps asserting that you're a man! Just look at you! Your entire body screams 'feminine'!"

"Because you altered my _appearance_, you wacko!" I gestured down toward my soft and, admittedly very, feminine body. "I didn't look anything like this the day before my birthday! I was angular, I was toned! You changed me! It was you, and I am a man! Hell, the day before I arrived, I had stubble!"

"You should be thanking me! I made you look better, more acceptable, and less pointy and ferret like." He was fairly roaring now, his face an unpleasant shade of red.

"I was perfect the way I was! I am the solitary heir to the Malfoy line and was born male; ergo, I needed to look masculine and pointy!" I decided to ignore the jab at my somewhat ferrety features

"No! No, no, no, no! You. Are. A. Girl! And that is final!" He pushed me from his lap and looked at me, murder in his eyes.

I should have stopped there; I knew it at the time, but I couldn't resist going after him. I mean, what exactly did I have to lose?

"Is that what this is about?" I asked slyly, waving a hand between the two of us, "Are you afraid of being-"

"Don't say it." He put a hand up in the universal "STOP!" position.

"Gaaaaaaaaay?" I drew the word out, savoring it on my tongue.

How he managed to look stricken and fuming at the same time, I will never know.

"Is that why you never married the Weaselette? Why I'm here? You enjoyed getting your cock sucked by guys too much? Sticking your dick up someone's tight ass? Or…" I smirked at his suddenly much paler pallor, "did you enjoy _sucking_ dick? Were you so much of a poof that you loved taking it from multiple guys? Tell me, Potter," I leaned in close, lowering my manly voice seductively, "Were you a pass around party bottom for the Weasel's family? It would certainly explain why you chose their friendship over mine; seven cocks are certainly better than one. That is, if their poor as dirt father took a break from getting the mother up the duff to take a second glance at you."

I never saw it coming. His magic, sparked by his fury, lashed out at me, throwing me clear across the room. I landed with a groan, and the last thing I remember before blacking out was Harry, horrified, running towards me.

* * *

><p>Was that- was that water dripping onto my <em>face<em>?

Oh, gods, my head was pounding! As I struggled to open my eyes, more water dripped onto my face and I became aware of something or someone rocking me.

"Harry?" Speaking, I found that Harry had altered my voice in my unconscious state. It was airy and light, reminiscent of the voice of one Fleur Delacour, and much more suited to my demure visage.

"Dray? Are you awake?" He also sounded different, but instead of ladyish, his voice had a very concerned edge to it. His face was still frozen in that horrified expression and tears were running in rivulets down. That certainly answered the question as to what was dripping on my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Harry, lemme go." I was fighting against his restraining arms, but he was steadfastly holding me down.

"Be careful, darling. You've been out for at least ten minutes now." He let go of the upper half of my body and settled on to running his fingers through my hair.

"Don't 'darling' me, Harry Potter! You threw me across the room!" I slid further down the couch, removing my head from his lap.

His huge green eyes looked repentant and wet, "But, sweetheart, I warned you. I asked you to stop, but you kept pushing me! And it was my magic that did it, not me."

"That's not an excuse! That really fucking hurt, Potter! You could have _killed_ me! Would that have pleased you, Potter, no more Malfoy to look after?"

"You're a Potter now, too." He reminded me gently, "And watch your mouth; we can't have our children growing up in a poisonous environment."

"Fuck your children!" I yelled, sitting up suddenly. The blood rushed from my head, making the world spin, but I stood, or sat rather, my ground. "You almost kill me and you can only think about your damned kids that aren't even alive?"

"Stop it. Do you not remember what happened last time you riled me up? You should; it transpired not even half an hour ago."

"Look, Potter," I started after taking a few deep breaths, "if it weren't for your ridiculous desire to sire your children with me, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"It isn't ridiculous, Dray. I really want you to be the mother of my children because you're the most beautiful girl I know." He reached out to grab my hand, a love struck expression on his face.

"Then, let me go." I changed my tactic, squeezing his hand in mine. "Grant me my freedom, please?"

"Sweetheart, I could never do that."

"But, why?" I couldn't help but whine. If he wanted to, he could make me as free as the day I was born; all slave owners had the bonds magically transferred over at purchase.

"What guarantee would I have that you would come back every day? How would I know you wouldn't just get fed up and leave, Draco? I need you. And I need you to stay with me." Those big emerald eyes pleaded with me for understanding and the only thing I could do was nod. He just wanted my affection, but it still stung that I would remain property, most likely until the day I died.

I felt my face crumple and before I could swipe at them, a few tears leaked from my eyes onto Harry's large t-shirt, which I had chosen as a pajama top the night before.

"Oh, Dray. Baby, please don't cry." He gathered me into his arms, and I was in such a state that I couldn't even bother to push him away.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, a lady needs to take comfort where she can get it.<p> 


	4. You're Twice The Lady She Is, Honey

The day Harry's magic struck me was marked in my mind as the day my spirit began to break.

It was the first time I had cried in his presence and the first time I had come all out and begged for my freedom. It had started out as just another morning in the Potter household, but turned into a version of my own personal hell. The doctors were nice enough, I suppose, but they ignored the fact that I had a penis. And that's when it hit me. Harry was so famous, so popular, and so influential, that he could basically do whatever the hell he wanted to me. And he was so obsessed, that he would never let go.

That's not to say that Harry and I didn't have fun in those days; he always made sure I was well entertained.

* * *

><p>"Everyone's staring at me, Harry." I whimpered, snuggled into my master's side.<p>

We were walking down Diagon Alley; I was bundled up in a classic purple trench with a matching beret perched jauntily on my head. The beret had quickly become a favorite of mine; the embellished D on the front reminding me of life at the Malfoy Manor, where everything we owned was monogramed. Before we left, Harry had shoved my little fingers into black gloves and wrapped the pretty matching scarf around my neck. Harry, on the other hand, was just dressed in one of those horrid Weasley sweaters with an "H" on the front.

"They aren't staring at you, dear. They're just curious as to who the pretty girl hanging from Harry Potter's arm is." He glanced down at me, amused, like always, but pulled us farther into the shadows.

"But that's me!" I blinked up back at him; my eyes wide like a bush baby's.

He leaned down and kissed my little button nose. I closed my eyes as his breath warmed the upper regions of my face, smiling contentedly. No matter the circumstances, Harry always knew how to make me feel special, even with dozens of people open-mouthed staring at us.

"You are just so _cute_!" he murmured, raising a hand to finger the waves he'd left in this morning.

"I try." I sass at him, opening my eyes.

His face was so close to mine that I could see all eight freckles that were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. There was so much love reflected in his eyes, that it almost broke my heart; I hoped one day that I could at least work my way up to loving Harry a fourth of how much he loved me.

"You don't even have to try; cute is your natural state of being."

That familiar blush worked its way up my cheeks and I was prepared to gush back more corny fluff at him when a vaguely red tinged shadow popped to the left.

"Wow. So this is the whore you left me for?" The voice is shrill and angry.

The people who had been previously milling around us were beginning to stop, hoping for a gruesome scene between the scantily dressed Weasley girl and their savior. Or at least a better glance at the quiet, vaguely veela like blonde girl on Harry Potter's arm.

"No. Now is not the time and this is not the place, Ginny." Harry broke away and semi-shoved me behind his back, effectively cutting the threat of the ginger shrew harming me down.

I had always wondered what happened to the littlest Weasel. But, somehow, I found that I could really give a shit now that she was peering around Harry, presumably trying to get a good shot at my face with her wand. From what Harry told me during our candlelit dinners, she was legendary at the Bat Bogey Hex back at Hogwarts.

"Really, now Harry?" By that point, she was trying to inch around Harry to scratch at me, "When is the time? You ignore my phone calls, ignore my floo calls, and avoid my family! When were we going to get around to talking about it?"

"Never, Ginny! Never!" He yelled, using his arm to shuffle us toward an open storefront and away from the gaping crowd.

"At least tell me who she is? Honestly, she better be a good fucking lay for you to leave me one night and marry her by the next!" She should really try to keep herself calm; the red of her face clashes awkwardly with the red- orange of her hair.

"For your information, copper pot, we haven't slept together yet! I'm not ready. Maybe if you'd kept your legs closed, he wouldn't have left you for me." I stepped slightly to the side and out of Harry's shadow; I'd had just about enough of the jealous floozy.

"How dare you? You know nothing of me! Who are you, anyway? Not that I care, home wrecker. It'd just be nice to know the name of the girl whose arse I'm about to beat."

At that, I shoved Harry's arm aside and stepped up to her. She was taller than I had anticipated, but I didn't back down. Instead, I cocked my hip to the side and gave her the patented Potter smirk. (What? I had to switch up the name; I can't use the Malfoy smirk if I'm a Potter, can I?)

"Sweetie, you don't have to-"Harry began, but I cut him off with my angry retort.

"First of all, how dare _you_? You're the one starting a scene in the middle of Diagon Alley, painting yourself more as a crazy tramp, than the jilted lover that you're obviously trying for. He was just _dating_ you; he's _married_ to me, which makes you the attempted home wrecker. Note that I said 'attempted' because he doesn't want you! Second, everyone in Britain, and I mean everyone, knows how you slept with the entire straight male population of Hogwarts by your sixteenth birthday. And finally, I'm…" I paused, thinking of a good female name, "Coco Potter. Lady Coco Potter, the woman holding the title that you so desperately longed for. " I can hear Harry sniggering behind me; he'll never let me live "Coco" down.

After getting over her initial shock at seeing such a perfect specimen of woman getting in her face, she looked me up and down. "I don't see very much." She directed this statement over my head at Harry's poker face. He'd probably dissolved into tears in his head by that point. "She looks like a prepubescent boy. Do you have _any_ breasts?" The last part was pointedly thrown at me.

"I didn't need massive boobs to attract Harry! He loved me for me, not for the ridiculous fun bags you have attached to your chest. Not to mention that in about ten years, your 'perky' tatas will start to sag, and you'll look just like your mum…used!"

"Look, bitch, I don't know who you think you are-"she tried to start, but just like Harry, I cut her off.

By then, the crowd looked to be salivating, waiting for me to deliver the killing blow.

"It's Lady Potter to you. Now, why don't you scamper off like a good little weasel? Don't want to get a sunburn and all that? So take your gold digger-wannabe, fake breast toting- and yes, we know they're fake-, no soul owning, smelling of copper, ginger arse and pedal your wares somewhere else, because we," I motioned between Harry and I "don't want anything you have to offer! "

Her mouth dropped open, "Well I've _never_-"

I leaned away from her open mouth, "Had a breath mint? Yeah, I believe it. Now go on. Shoo, before the muggle animal control comes to catch the bitch in heat wandering around London." I grabbed Harry's hand, pushed our way through the throng of people who had gathered and frog marched him into the closest shop, which happened to be the jewelry store that we had been heading for originally, leaving the Weaselette to her own devices.

* * *

><p>Once we were safely ensconced in the warm shop, we burst into hysterical giggles.<p>

"You are a top pedigree bitch, Coco; in the absolute best way! Her face-"he broke off, out of breath, "her face when you said she needed a breath mint! Absolutely priceless!"

"Yes, well." I straightened up, putting on my straight face, "You never told me that she was living in our home the day before I moved in."

His grin dropped too, "It never came up." He looked sheepish and mildly ashamed, "But now isn't the time, Dray. We're here for our rings, 'member?"

And we were. Harry had been trying to cajole me into wearing a wedding ring or something of the sort from the very first week. He had convinced himself that we had an actual relationship, and wanted as many symbols of our unity around us as he could get.

The rings I had picked out were sterling silver and had pure emeralds and grey sapphires encrusted. They may have cost 125,000 galleons, but they matched our eye colors perfectly. The rings we were in the process of buying were one of the first pieces of jewelry that I was allowing him to place on me, a D+H engraved locket being the very first and a gift for willingly wearing a pair of heels out to an Auror dinner.

"Can I help you, miss?" a fairly young, semi-handsome shopkeeper asked me after wandering up to Harry and I, giving me the once over.

"Yes, you could." It seemed like Harry had noticed the distinct lack of eye contact the man had given him. "My _wife_ and I are here to pick up the _wedding_ rings we ordered last week."

I placed a hand on the man's forearm and tried to look demure, glancing back at Harry, "Don't pay any attention to him, sir. He's can't help but to be jealous." I leaned in closer to him, and noted that I'd seen him before at one of my father's galas, "After all, I am a pureblooded wife of an arranged marriage."

It wasn't a lie. Our marriage was arranged. Harry arranged to have me purchased, didn't he?

His mud brown eyes lit up at that; it's a badly kept secret that almost all pureblooded wives take lovers and nearly every wife from an arranged marriage sleeps around. The man clearly thought that he was going to get in my pants at some point in the near future.

"It's Roger, not sir. Right this way, ma'am." He didn't give me a choice, simply encased my hand in his sweaty mitt. I shot a helpless look at Harry; I recall giggling at his anger and thinking that the impending incident was going to be fun.

"Well, these rings, right here," Roger produced the satin lined box with a flick of his, rather diminutive, wand, "just came in last night. They're of a fine quality and the precious stones are simply of the highest caliber." He nodded to himself, throwing me what was probably meant to be a sexy smile, but it just seemed like he was going to be sick at any moment.

"Now if the lady would just-"he motioned toward my left hand, which I brought up for his inspection. "You've a beautiful dainty hand, miss." He slipped the jewelry onto my ring finger, and brought my knuckles to his lips.

"Excuse me, sir? Could you please take a break from attempting to seduce my wife to fit my ring?" Harry sounded huffy and when I turned to him, I saw that he was brushing his bangs away to reveal his trademark scar.

Had Roger been looking away from me, he probably would have been shaking in his tiny boots. As it was, I had tired of the man's flirtations.

"Lord Potter, calm yourself, it wouldn't do to lose your temper in public." I tossed the sentence over my shoulder, only interested in the clerk's reaction.

I wasn't disappointed; the man immediately stopped making goo-goo eyes at me and began quivering.

"P-P-Potter? As in the Lord and L-Lady Potter of the Black, Potter, Peverell, and Malfoy Estates?" he managed to stammer out, eyes practically bugging out of his head.

"The very self-same." Harry sniffed, irritated that his scar hadn't gotten the recognition my comment had.

"My most sincere apologies, milord! I'll just speed things right along with the aid of magic." He waved his wand around in quick, awkward motions and within moments we'd had our rings fitted to our hands, wrapped up in in their gorgeous wood box, and in Harry's hands.

"Pleasure serving you, sir and madam." He not-so-subtly ushered us toward the door, his sweaty hands growing even moister in his nervousness.

He seemed to have quite the difficulty just opening the door.

"No, it was our pleasure speaking to _you_, Roger." I bat my long mascaraed eyelashes at him to no avail; he was eyeing up Harry warily, as well he should have been. Harry was not the one to mess with. And his wife was most definitely off limits.

"Yes, yes, visit us again, but not too soon." At last he had us out the door and slammed the door behind us.

Harry and I looked at each other and started up with the laughter again. He offered his arm to me, which I took gratefully, and we started strolling toward the apparation point, tiny giggles hiccupping from my throat every now and again.

"I really do love you, Lady Coco Potter." Harry said amiably, giving the top of my beret a kiss.

I simply sighed; what more could I ask for in a Wednesday day outing?


	5. Doll, Your Body's Perfect

My first time.

When most people picture their first time, they think of it as something mystical. Something unexpected and unplanned. When I pictured my first time after being purchased by Harry Potter, I knew almost exactly what I should expect. But, at least he hadn't forced me. He may have pressured me and hinted to me, but he didn't steal my virginity. Which was truly the last thing I had left to my name.

* * *

><p>"Come on out, Dray!" Harry called for me through our bathroom door.<p>

I'd finally convinced myself that I was ready for it. I'd been under Harry's ownership for around eight months, and he was becoming extraordinarily antsy. His kisses were getting hotter, his touches were getting longer, and my nightly baths had become our nightly baths, with him settled behind me, caressing my body under the guise of soaping me up. It wasn't as if I didn't find Harry attractive; I found him ridiculously handsome. But, my virginity was just that: _my_ virginity. The thing that made me stand out from the other slaves.

But, the time for being nervous was over. It was time that I allowed Harry to touch me intimately. How else did I expect to beget his children if I was too afraid to let him touch me? So, I stiffened up my upper lip, stammered out a quiet "I'm ready." to Harry, and marched into the bathroom to put on the scariest piece of lingerie in my drawer. That would explain why I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a good half hour, staring at my pale and paling reflection.

The piece was scanty, lavender and periwinkle in color, and revealed more skin than I was actually comfortable with. But, Harry's eyebrows had shot up when I'd pulled it out of the wardrobe and he'd looked me up hungrily, so I'd forced myself into it, just for him.

* * *

><p>"C-coming." I called, pushing open the door.<p>

Eyes downcast, I stepped forward into our quiet bedroom. A long low wolf whistle sounded and I looked up alarmed.

"You look so gorgeous, Dray. C'mere."

He opened his arms to me and I fell into them gratefully. He rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head.

"Now, all you have to do is lay back, Coco, and I'll take care of you, okay?"

I nodded hesitantly, tightening my hold on his t-shirt. He squeezed just a little tighter, then lifted me into his arms and onto my back on the bed.

"'S this alright?" his eyes were filled with an equal mix of concern and hunger.

"Y-yeah." I stuttered, letting my eyes drift closed, "Look, Potter, just do it. You don't have to keep asking me. It's fine."

I saw his eyes light up and suddenly, Potter's dry lips were pressed to mine.

His fingers tunneled into my wavy blonde hair, and tilted my head back, exposing my slender pale neck to his hungry mouth to devour.

"You're so damn pretty, Dray. I could just eat. You. Up." He punctuated the end of each sentence with a nip or a bite to my clavicle.

His lips trailed down my heated skin, creating a fantastic flushed feeling. His hands had been smoothing up and down my cinched waist, but at the moan I uttered when his tongue drifted near my nipple, he halted his motions and seized hold of the top of my semi-outfit.

"You don't like this too much, d'ya? I can destroy this, yeah?" without waiting for my answer, he ripped the bodice open, exposing my peachy skin to the air.

"Ouch!" small traces of elastic had snapped against my torso, leaving little red whip marks.

"S'rry," Harry mumbled into my chest, laving my nipple with his hot textured tongue.

I sighed and sank farther into the pillows, tiny whimpers and moans escaping my parted lips. His hands picked their roaming back up and meandered to my parted thighs, stroking up and down, his blunt nails scraping the sensitive skin. His lips, on the other hand, retraced their steps and met mine, though this time much wetter than before. His lips moved skillfully against mine as his hands fondled my cock, his fingers spreading the precum to ease the friction. When he applied a heaver touch to the crown, I moaned in surprise; it felt better than heavenly. Harry took advantage of my momentary lapse in self-restraint and shoved his tongue into my face.

It curled itself around my tongue, lapping at it intently. Deciding to take a little chance, I reached up and placed my hand carefully on the side of his face. Deepening our kiss, he nuzzled into my hand, a content purring flowing between our interlocked mouths. At last, we had to part for air and as we sat there staring into each other's eyes with heaving chests, trying to catch our breaths, I realized that no, I don't dislike Harry Potter anymore.

"Fuck me." I mumbled against his lips, sliding a thigh between his legs.

"Come again, princess?" Harry did a double take, sliding his glasses off and flinging them onto the nearest table.

"You heard me." I reached out for my newly restored wand and used a burst of magic to banish both of our clothes to the hamper on the other side of the room.

"Oh!" I whimpered; I'd never expected a cock grinding against my own would feel so good.

"Yeah," Harry sighed back, a blissed out expression on his face.

He shook himself out of his stupor and drew back from me, studying my face and pinkish red neck and chest.

"Hey, lemme try something?"

I nodded my assent again; truly I was starting to feel like a bobble head the way I kept shaking my head up and down.

He pushed himself further down the bed, shoving assorted covers aside, and took my erection between both his hands. Maintaining eye contact, he lowered his head and stuck his pink tongue out, just inches from the purpling head. Then, he licked it once with a broad stroke of that heavenly tongue. My back involuntarily arched off the bed, it felt so good. _So __this__ is what I've been missing out on?_ I recall thinking to myself. But the best had yet to come.

When Harry engulfed the head of my dick in his hot, oh so moist mouth, my eyes rolled back and I almost came, right then. He seemed to realize that fact, and wrapped a hand firmly around the base of my erection, flashing a teasing smile up at me from around my cock. That's when the real fun began, because Harry began bobbing his head up and down my length without an issue. The covers somehow found their way into one fist, and the other found itself ensnared in Harry's bushy hair.

Then, a slick finger started circling my pink, hairless, and very much virgin hole. I clenched against it at first, but Harry's finger was persistent, prodding at the tense muscles of my sphincter. Once he twigged that he wouldn't be getting entrance that way, the thumb of that hand decided to start rubbing along my perineum, igniting a fire there to match the one his wet mouth was creating in the pit of my belly. And that's when it slipped in, and this time the fire it started wasn't a pleasing one.

"Ouch! Harry!" I wiggled my body, suddenly focused on that one burning point, "It hurts! Take it out!"

He paused in his sucking to shake his head in the negative, and popped off with an obscene smacking noise, his lips swollen and a darker red than usual, "I can't do that babe; I have to prepare you or else it'll hurt." He explained patiently.

"But it hurts now!" I whined, semi-angrily, trying to back away from the second finger that was inserting itself into my slightly loosened rectum.

"Look, Dray, I'm trying to do this as gently as possible, but I can't do that if you're fighting against it." Harry's face was taking on a pissed tinge too, but he lowered his head back to my cock after a muttered "Relax!"

I thought I caught something like an "or else!" but that could have been either of our heavy breathing. I had just gotten accustomed to the stretchy sort of pain that the second finger had brought with it when Harry pushed his ring finger into my ass along with the others.

"Ow!"I screamed, reactionary tears pricking my eyes. "Get off of me!"

"No. I warned you."

And, his magic arose around us in a cloud, feeding off of his arousal and my sudden pain. At first, I thought that it was going to help me, but instead, it became like a heavy blanket, suffocating me. It wasn't restricting my airflow so much as smothering my need to rebel against Harry's wishes. My mind was still fighting against his clashing touches, but my body just didn't seem to want to cooperate. But at least it was highlighting the pleasure, almost making the pain in my arse the background.

Finally, the fingers retracted and I could have wept in relief. But the reprieve only lasted a second as in the next, the thick head of Harry's slickened up cock was pushed against my sore hole. I tried to make a noise, move my head or something, but all I could do was lay there as he shoved his monster into me. Tears were leaking from my eyes as I convinced myself that something inside of me was ripping. But then, then he struck something on the inside of me that gave me a surprisingly pleasurable jolt and I jumped. Harry looked at me questioningly.

"D-do that again." I was surprised that my voice had started working again.

"This?" he rotated his hips, which were flush against mine and there was the shot of heaven again.

"Yeah." The word became drawn out in a moan as he continued his assault on my happy button.

"You like that, babe?" he sounded both incredulous and arrogant.

"Uh-huh" I scrambled to sit up and grabbed Harry's broad shoulders for purchase, bouncing myself up and down on his cock.

Loud moans and whimpers burst from my throat; it just felt so _good_. If I'd thought the blowjob and frottage were nice, I had absolutely _no_ clue as to what true pleasure was. That little bundle of good inside of me more than made up for the burning sensation inside of me. This was why people fucked, because it was ecstasy without the drugs.

I rode him like that for nearly an hour, ignoring the protests from my tired muscles. All too soon, I came. Somehow or another, it snuck up on me, and I was spurting hard all over mine and Harry's chest. I only stayed awake for the first jet or two, because after that, the stars were calling me I fell back onto my soft, comfy pillows.

* * *

><p>Digging my way back to the conscious world, I noticed three things right away. One, my arse really really <em>really<em> hurt! Two, there was a lot of fluid seeping from my sore arsehole. And three, it was morning. Last time I'd checked, it'd been no later than nine thirty in the evening. I struggled to sit up and encountered a gentle hand on my chest, pressing me back down onto the bed.

"Be careful now, sweetie, you just rest. We had an out of this world experience last night, and I don't want you passing out again."

Oh. So that was sex. Really good, mind numbing sex.

* * *

><p>Well, <em>that<em> was worth it.


	6. You Don't Own Me, Psycho

A/N: At last, something that comes in Harry's point of view. I hope you find him and his reasoning satisfactory:) Also, this chapter is very special in that it has two names. As you'll see, the two perspectives have two sides of the story. Enjoy "You Don't Own Me, Psycho/ I'm _Not_ Crazy!"

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry!" I cried, my voice echoing in the hallway that Harry was hauling me down. "Really, I am!"<p>

My pleas fell on deaf ears as nothing changed, except that he began to focus on one door to our right.

"Harry- please, I'll never do it again! Harry? Harry!"

He whirled around on me, eyes blazing, and yanked me closer by the wrist that he had seized. "Shut up!"

I flinched away, dissolving into tears and hiccoughing sobs. He was being so unfair. All I wanted was to try it, just to see what it was like after all this time. I wouldn't have gotten hurt. I know I wouldn't have; my powers had grown much stronger, thanks to Harry and I's increased intimacy. His love for me and the prolonged physical contact had done wonders for my weakened state; it was as if the slave bond was feeding me bits and pieces of his power in order to keep me perpetually ready for Harry. But if the bond was good to me when Harry was pleased with me, it punished me severely when Harry was angry, sucking the power out of me, leaving me physically and emotionally drained.

The door's style and knob morphed from a regular Potter Manor to something more akin to a door suited to the Palace of Versailles.

"Go. Sit in the chair, please Draco." He released my achy wrists and thrust me into the room.

I glanced back at him, worried, but made my way to the solitary wooden chair sitting in the middle of the darkened room. Carefully lowering myself, I perched in the chair and brought my attention back to Harry, who was sealing the door with a flick of his wand. Which was a bad sign; he was taking away my right to leave of my volition. When he faced me, his green eyes had a determined light in them, and I somehow knew that the conversation that was about to ensue would change the way we did things. _Duh, Draco,_ I thought to myself, _this isn't about my_ _well-being. It's about his anger_.

* * *

><p>I love him; of course I love him! I rescued him from that twisted pureblooded fucker who was trying to purchase him in the auction, didn't I? Did you think he wanted Draco to clean his house? Ha! More like clean his pool…naked…while sucking his cock. I saved him! And who are you to judge my choices, anyway? You have no idea what I've gone through. My entire life has been out of my control, so is it really so bad that I want to control someone of my own? And it's not like I'd ever do anything to seriously harm him. I've been halfway in love with him since we were sixteen.<p>

There's just something about following a person around morning, noon, and night, learning their habits, that just endears them to you. While trailing him in our sixth year, I learned that his favorite breakfast is two pieces of whole wheat toast with raspberry marmalade spread thinly over the top, a half cup of whole milk, and granny smith apple slices. That when Draco's having a bad day, he enjoys curling up with a muggle mystery novel and a cup of hot cocoa. And when he's having a good day, he smiles brightly at everyone and hums American muggle songs under his breath. As of recently, I know that he hates Ginny with a fiery passion, always has, and that he only fights with Ron because Ron touches on all of his soft spots. That his best friend is Pansy, not Blaise, and that he knew he was gay when he was thirteen, after he took a chance and kissed Blaise at his birthday party. And, most of all, I know that he doesn't resent me anymore; he just wants to be free. If those aren't details that a lover would know, I don't know what would be. I saw him one day, with his huge grey eyes that were always so pretty and shiny with tears and just knew that somehow, someway, someday, we'd be together.

And, it's not just about the way he looks, you guys. He's got such a strong personality; it's hard to believe that he'd end up being as submissive as he is now. I've always wondered what happened to break the Draco I knew, into this Dray that now lives in my home, but I doubt he'll tell me. He's a private person, and although he takes direction very well now, he'd likely fight me tooth and nail about this. And his nails and teeth are very nice, so it'd be in everyone's best interests not to ruin them.

That's another thing! I'm sure you're all thinking that I'm some mental loon who just wanted to mold the perfect girlfriend. Not. True. He looks exactly the way he used to look…to me. The charms that I altered him with put me in complete control of his visage at all times. And I loved his old face. His high, aristocratic cheekbones and snooty nose were beautiful features, pointy on the outside to reflect the cutely prickly personality that lay inside. It's only when we leave our home that I arrange his face into the disgustingly feminine face that the public expects to see. It almost makes me gag to see _that_ on my gorgeous Draco's face, but if that's what it takes to keep his slavery out of the Daily Prophet, it's what must be done. That's what they say, after all. Hide in plain sight.

Speaking of hiding in plain sight, _his_ face makes an appearance in the lady one that I cover his features with. It was the only way that I could bear to do it; I needed to be able to see my Draco's face, even in the disguise of a pretty woman. And there is no doubt about it; the face is the face of a tantalizing woman. Too bad I'm gay, right? If I weren't, do you think for even a second we would be here right now? I would have married Ginny, the thought of that gives me shivers to this day, and spit out three kids, all named after the people who died in the war, of course, because that's what was expected of the Savior. Shit on being the Savior! Being the bloody savior is what keeps me from being able to show Draco, the real Draco, off in public, instead of the snooty arm candy he tries to be for my sake. He clearly doesn't know that I find the snippets of him that show when he's upset more attractive than the demure feel that he tries to exude when he thinks I'm unaware. Tricks on him though- he's completely unaware that he still looks himself to me.

Of course, our mirrors are all charmed to present the ruse, and the make-up he applies transfers directly to _it_, so I suppose there's really no way for him to know, but still, one would think he'd touch his face and realize that his face felt _nothing_ like his reflection. But he hasn't, and now he's gone out and fucked things up, just because he thought he looked like a lady.

* * *

><p>"Dray…Dray…why?"<p>

We're sitting in the Palace Room, which is filled with pretty things with frills and lace. Things that I know Draco loves, even if he won't admit it. He looks sad and withdrawn, eyes red and puffy from bawling on the way down here. I suppose he thinks I'm going to beat him or something. But at the same time, he looks…smug? Like he isn't at all repentant for his actions.

"He-"Draco breaks off with a hiccough and starts again, "he said that he could see the real me and that I was beautiful as I was."

Of course. Of course a guest that I had invited into our home had seen Draco for who he was; I'd forgotten to put his glamour on before I left this morning. Shit.

"He said that he saw right through the lady bullshit, and seen the man that I was. He made me feel special just for being me. And he didn't even have to be nice to me, like you do."

The lying bastard.

I cut into his increasingly determined monologue, "Seamus didn't see through shit, Dray."

This quiets him for a few moments, but he's back again within seconds.

"Then how did he know it was me, Potter? It's not like I'm holding a sign that says, 'Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy. Please come and seduce me.'" His sarcasm doesn't go unnoticed, but I decide not to chide him for the attitude this time.

I growl at the mention of seduction, because that's exactly what it was: a seduction attempt. I'd only been twenty minutes late to dinner, but when I'd burst through the floo, there had been Seamus, leaning over _my_ Draco, saying that he could free him from me that the bags could be packed in seconds and they could be on their way. And Draco had been standing there, an enraptured look on his face, as though he were delighted by Seamus's ridiculous plot. I'd stood there, frozen, seething, but when he leaned down to capture Dray's lips, I'd been shocked into motion. The rest of the hour went by in an angry blur, with Seamus being forcibly thrown from my home and Draco sulking in his sitting room, most likely thinking awful things about me and my ancestors. Now, here we are, with Draco looking at me expectantly. Oh! Right.  
>"No, but I didn't set your glamour before I left for work this morning." I admit; I hadn't wanted to reveal to Dray yet that the face he saw wasn't really his own yet. I wanted to surprise him with an enchanted mirror on his eighteenth birthday.<p>

"Yes, precisely what I thou- wait. Glamour? My face is a _glamour_?" he looks enraged instead of the joyful that I had expected.

"No," I start truthfully, "your face isn't a glamour. The lady's face that you portray in public, on the other hand, is." And there came the happiness.

"So, I don't look like a girl? Normally, I mean." He sounds overjoyed now.

I shake my head, a grin starting to stretch across my lips. My Draco is happy to believe he's himself. He loves the way he looks and I'm happy to give it back to him. Suddenly, I have a lapful of white blond hair and flushed cheeks, smothering me with kisses.

"So, when we're sitting here and you call me to you to tell me I'm pretty, you're talking about me? And when you spend twenty minutes just kissing my face, you love _my_ features, not the features of the girl you created? You love me, not Coco?" all is said in just one breath and his chest is heaving.

"Sweetie, you are Coco." I can't help but laugh. It's not a total waste, as a rueful smile tugs at his mouth too. "But, even though you're happy, you aren't forgiven." I tighten my arms around his waist; he was just seconds away from leaping away when he heard the serious tone come into my voice.

"What transpired today was unacceptable, Dray. You belong to me and I love you, but you were going to leave me for him. Were going to betray me. Would have betrayed me if I hadn't intervened." He nods, chastened, "Which means I'm going to have to punish you."

A low whine seeps from his throat and I look at him warningly; now is not the time to beg off.

"You are not allowed to leave the house until further notice. You will be by the floo at six when I get home, unless I tell you otherwise before I leave for work that morning. When I get home, you will wear the special cuffs that allow me to find you. You may not have any male friends over or make contact with anyone who is male that isn't me. When we go upstairs, I will be taking you wand and we'll have dinner, then we will be going straight to bed. Understand?"

His face has changed to a sickly orangey red and he looks about ready to blow at the rules that I've laid out for him, but he nods quickly, tucking his face into my neck. I pull him back and release my hold on his waist; if he thinks I'm carrying him after the stunt he just pulled, he must be out of his mind.

* * *

><p>AN: Just your friendly, neighborhood author stepping in again.

This chapter really kicked my butt, since I had planned to do all of the story in Draco's POV, but this turned out to be a really good idea. At least I think so, but you be the judge.

Also, I'm not adverse to accepting your ideas and thoughts. I'm not writing just for me, I'm writing for you guys, my audience, so if you have an idea that you'd really like me to try, shoot me a PM or just leave a comment in the reviews, and I'll do my best to get to it as soon as I can.

Hearts and Klisses,

BecauseIHurtSo


	7. Did He Hurt Your Feelings, Darling?

That first punishment was pure torture.

What? You want me to add something to qualify it? Well, too freaking bad. I hated being punished, end of story.

* * *

><p>"Are you still sulking in your room, Draco?" Harry's voice floated up the stairs into my library. It had a slight lilt in it, as though he was trying not to laugh at me.<p>

"No!" I shouted indignantly. I wasn't sulking; I'd just bundled up in my stuffy chair because it had been cold in the Manor. I'd have loved to have heated it myself, buuuuuuut, Harry'd locked my wand away somewhere I couldn't find it.

"Well, I'm leaving. It'd be nice to get a kiss." He began ascending the flight of stairs; I could hear his heavy footfalls. I scowled at the door. I really did _not_ want him there, in my space.

"I'm sure you'd like that. I'd like to leave this stupid prison, but you don't see that happening either, now do ya?" the sarcasm was heavy in my voice.

He twisted the doorknob, and then his stupid fluffy hair and his stupid pretty eyes were peeking at me. "You don't hurt me as much as you think you do when you say things like that, y'know." The corners of his eyes were crinkled up; he was laughing at me behind the heavy mahogany door.

"Go away, Potter! Don't you have some evil lords to vanquish or maybe some other blonde innocent to enslave?" I bet that hurt him. The whole I-bought-you-like-an-item thing had always been a sore spot for him.

"No…but I do have a job that keeps you up in the manner to which you have become accustomed." Well there ya go. He'd gone after me too. It's not like I was _that_ spoiled.

"Why don't you go, instead of harassing me?"

"Because I don't wanna go while you're still mad at me." I was glad he knew who wore the pants 'round our house. "I might not have anything to come home to."

"I'm not going to burn the house down, Harry! You've barricaded me in, prat. To burn the house down is to bring certain death to me, the elves, and all my pretty trinkets. And I _love_ me and my things!"

His entire face made an appearance. That stupid smug smile had been wiped off right off. "Yes, I know. _Everyone _knows. It's not exactly a secret that you're a self-centered material whore."

I hated that word, still do.

"And, it's not exactly a secret that I'm _your _whore. _Everyone _knows it." I sneered at Harry for what may have been the first time since I'd landed myself in his custody. I may not have had an opportunity to use it until then, but my lips found the familiar position quite familiar, "So why can't I go outside like this?" I gestured to my very masculine-ly clothed body and still angular face.

"Because _guessing _that you're Draco Malfoy and _knowing_ that you're Draco Malfoy are two different things!" Harry raised his voice at me, left arm waving about as though he were a mad man.

"So what? It's not that big of a deal! The _Quibbler's_ already reported it and if that idiot Xenophilius Lovegood's got us all figured out, then it must be bared for the whole world to see!"

"No, it's not! Certainty and speculation are two completely different things. Speculation is the very thing that keeps you safe, you whiny twit!"

"What do you mean by _safe_?" The word dropped off my tongue like an unwanted toy into a garbage pail.

"Safe, Draco. You don't think you made enemies in the War? You think everyone's forgiven you just because you helped the Light Side at the very last minute?" Actually, that was precisely what I was thinking, "Well, you seem to be forgetting that because of you, Death Eaters found their way into our impenetrable school, because of you, our classmates were sacrificed to a madman, and it is because of you that their hero, Albus Dumbledore, was murdered! Not to mention that your mother was the one who lied to that maniac's face, and you went along with it because you guessed that it would save your skinny little arse!"

There was nothing I could say to that. Nothing at all. How does one go about disputing the truth?

He seemed to take my silence as an agreement because he continued, "You're nothing but a coward, but I love you anyway. I look past your faults to see the person that you could be, Draco, if you would just listen to me. All these rules, these regulations, honey, they're only there to keep you safe and out of harm's way." He'd snuck upon me while I was reflecting, and pulled me from my armchair and into his arms, "I don't know what I would do without you, muffin. You're my world now. And I'm the Chosen One; saving the world is what I do," He chuckled, the sound reverberating through my chest. I expected his little tirade to cease at that, but he merely continued at a much more leisurely and sedate pace. "After the War, where everyone changed- for the better or for the worse, I can't say- but you, Draco, are the same person who went in, quaking in your Death Eater big boy robes and mask. Faucets of your personality seem to turn on and off at will, but you're still more or less the same beautiful, selfish boy I left behind. You're the one constant in my life, and I'll be damned if I let you blow it all to smithereens just so you can get a little taste of freedom." He took my place in the chair and rocked me back and forth in time to his breathing. I found that he was an apt enough substitute for a heating charm.

"M'sorry, Harry." I mumbled into his Auror robes. And I really was.

The entire time I'd been in his care, he had been doing his damnedest to keep me safe, but all I could think about was getting to spend the night under someone else's roof for once. Not once in my year long stay at Potter Manor had it occurred to me that the disguise that Harry had foisted upon me for my own good. Yeah, I'd realized that an attractive, sweet female hanging off of his arm, complete with wedding ring, would do wonders for his reputation. Merlin knows that it had taken a hit when the slaggish She-Weasel was his betrothed; she'd slept around like it was her nine to five. And I also realized that no matter how socially advanced we magical beings' like to think we are to the muggles, the majority of the world would simply not have accepted that the Boy-Who-Lived was also the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Love-Other-Boys. They would have rebelled against his rules or worse, come after me with far-fetched ideas that I had Imperio-ed him, or something in that vein. But never once did I think that my safety was the thing that had forced his hand.

"Apology accepted, my love." His fingers tangled in the silky strands at the back of my head and lifted my head away from his neck so that I would look into his too earnest eyes. "I know this is hard on you, but you've got to be willing to make this work; I can't do this all on my own. When you have questions as to why I'm doing something, come to me. I'll try to answer you to the best of my abilities. Don't just bottle it up, Dray, because then we fight. And I don't like it when we fight, alright?"

His lips met mine and it was like coming home after a tour of duty. His lips were slightly chapped and warm as they moved along mine, coaxing my mouth open. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth and tapped my palette, sending shivers down my spine. He only held me tighter and teased my tongue into his mouth, which was a first. It was hot, wet, and tasted of Harry's morning pumpkin juice. I had precious few seconds to map it out, though, before his lips closed around my tongue and he began sucking at the slick muscle. I felt my toes curl in my socks and I moaned; it felt so _good_.

I could hear him muttering something under his breath as he broke away from my lips and started a trail down my jaw to the exposed column of my neck, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Then, he latched onto my pulse point and bit down, lapping at the skin he had trapped with his teeth. Somehow my hands found themselves in his curls, holding him to me, but all too soon, he pulled away to look into my eyes again.

"Alright, Dray?" His gorgeous emerald eyes were all lit up with possessiveness, passion and hunger, but mostly, his undying love as he gazed at me.

I nodded my head and broke eye contact.

* * *

><p>At that moment it had become a little too real to me. The concept that Harry and I would most likely be spending the rest of our lives together was a scary thing and not something that I thought about on a daily basis. So, he had purchased me a car and given me a potions lab to work with in the basement, but that didn't necessarily mean that he meant us to be permanent. It could have been a good will gesture to ensure that I didn't disembowel and dismember him in his sleep those first few months. When Harry spoke of the pretty children we would have, I didn't think of the future, I only wondered about how soon he would sell me after he got his spawn. The future was a murky place for me, filled with uncertainty and doubt. As one must know, a slave doesn't typically get a say; we are usually drug around as though nothing better than common house pets, forced to submit to the wills of our masters<p>

But I'd lucked out. I'd gotten Harry. A pure-ish soul who didn't use me for backbreaking labor. All he'd required was an aesthetically pleasing companion with the ability to be molded to his needs. His molding could have touched my personality, made me more malleable to his will, but he didn't touch any portion of my mind or soul. He only tailored my body to his demands, leaving me to riffle through my mind for a reason why. I'd wondered why he hadn't fixed me and turned me into some mindless robot that agreed with every word he said. I suppose he got enough of that from the Weasel and Granger, both of whom, up until the tail end of the second year of my imposed slavery, supported him in every venture he went into.

What I was trying to get at was that Harry chose me as I was, stubborn, selfish, angular, and all, and treasured me above all things. Yet I fought him tooth and nail about trying to ensure that I was well taken care of. If I had been in his stead, I would have locked such a volatile companion in a tower where no one could get to her. But Harry, he was much too nice for turrets. Instead, I was confined to the damned castle, which might have been made of sand for the way that I was treating it before Harry left that morning. The anger was well deserved, though- he'd sent a baby sitter to watch over me until he got home that night.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Ms. Coco." And of course it was the Weasel. Who thought that I was a lady.<p>

"Why, hello, Ronald." I forced my girl voice to sound pleasant; as though I were actually happy to see that ginger mess about to enter my perfect living room. "How's your girlfriend, Herman?"

"She's doing real well. And it's Hermione." He corrected as he closed the fireplace grate and stepped into the room, without wiping his sooty shoes off on the mat, shooting me a bashful smile the whole while.

"Ah, yes. I can be just _awful _with names, you know."

"I don't actually." He sauntered into our kitchen and helped himself to a butterbeer from the refrigerator.

"So, Ms. Coco, what is it that you're so afraid of? Since you won't go outside anymore?" He plopped himself down beside me and propped those same powder caked shoes onto the glass table.

"Well, _Ron_," I put some serious stress on the name as I pushed his huge feet down, "I'm camera shy and every time I go outside, that dreadful Rita Skeeter buzzes in and starts taking these dreadful pictures of me, asking me personal questions. I abhor it!"

"You should have reckoned that the people would be curious when you chose to marry my best mate, Ms. Coco." He finished his statement with a long drink from the bottle, which was dripping its condensation all over the fresh leather. Huge arrogant arsehole sounded pleased that I was having such a difficult time coping.

"Yes, I suppose I should have. It didn't enter my mind really." He tried to set his drink onto the hard-to-clean glass surface, but I stopped him, throwing a coaster down. What was he, raised in a burrow? "By the way, Ron, I'm married. To your best friend. Which makes me a missus. Mrs. Dracorine Potter. So, Mrs. Potter."

He looked about ready to speak, and I could have gone without his mindless commentary, so I pushed on, "Actually, you could just call me Coco and drop the missus. Or better yet!" A wicked thought had attached itself, "Draco. You can call me Draco. All my friends do, darling."

"But, Coco, we aren't exactly friends. You're just Harry's new wife."

"A year hardly constitutes as new, sir. And I said Draco."

He looked like he'd been asked to shoot a child in the face, point blank.

"It's not like we've had many opportunities to interact aside from the regulated Auror parties, so we aren't friends, per say, Coco. Uh, I'd prefer to just call you Coco, if you don't mind." I guess he preferred the lesser of two evils, then.

"I do mind. It's Draco. Whose fault is that? We've had dinner parties before. You've had plenty of opportunities to meet and befriend me before now."

Our dinner parties have always been quiet affairs, with only a handful of truly trusted people allowed to attend: Pansy, Blaise, Millicent, a few of Harry's friends outside work, and occasionally Hermione. I didn't think that the invitation had ever been extended to any of the Weasleys, but it never hurt to make him feel guilty about maybe accidentally turning down our invite.

"But you've always been kept a strict secret from society. The entire relationship has been real hush-hush. In fact, the day before your marriage was published in _The Daily Prophet_, I thought that my little sister and Harry were going to get hitched."

"I've met Ginny before. She seemed…interesting."

"But where did you come from, Coco? I know you two didn't fall in love in less than twenty four hours. Wer- were you sleeping together while he was still with Gin?" He looked sick to his stomach and a little bewildered, like he couldn't believe that anyone would want to cheat on his little sister.

"My name is Draco. I don't see how that's any of your business. But, no, we weren't."

"Then, what? Why are you married to Harry and my kid sister's not?"

"I'm sensing some inner hostility here, Ron." His face reminded me of Ginny's after I'd rubbed her face in her misdoings; tomato red and spoiling for a fight.

"Well, yeah! I spent years of my life just waiting for Harry and Ginny to figure out that they're in love with each other and finally! Finally, they do, and just when Harry's getting ready to join our family for real, you show up! What the fuck?"

"I'm sure Harry's told you that you're not allowed to use vulgar language inside of the house."

"I don't give a flying fuck! Where did you come from? You ruined everything!"

"I didn't ruin anything. She did. Do you really think that it's my entire fault? If she were a tad classier and didn't sleep with everything that moved, maybe you would be sitting here with her, instead of me." I spread my arms and rubbed the smooth butter colored leather of our sofa. I sat there, grinning lazily at him, eating up his frustration and anger like it was a delicious and rare fois gras. Which it was, in a way. After my performance that day, there was no way that he would willingly come to keep me company.

"Now you wait a moment, you don't know anything about my sister."

"I know enough. I know that Harry didn't waste two moments mourning her loss."

"She isn't dead." Well, duh.

"I know that. But, don't you think that if you lost someone you'd been living with for years, you'd miss her? If you really loved her, that is. He's mentioned her perhaps three times since we've been together."

"Well, it's rude to mention exes in front of the current significant other," As if he would know anything about proper manners.

"You say current as though you don't expect me to be here for long."

"No offense, Coco, but you don't really seem like his type. I give this uh, _marriage_ a couple more months at most." Ooooh, he thought saying marriage like a dirty word would offend me. How Gryffindor of him.

"How rude are you? I've said time and time again that my name is Draco. And, who are you to judge my marriage when you haven't been around us together for more than three minutes in private? What would you say his _type _is anyway?

"Tall, voluptuous, pleasant, unafraid, down to earth, gentle, social, beautiful-," Wrong. He obviously didn't realize that his best mate was gay and found the majority of those qualities revolting. And, besides, he was only rattling off the She-Weasel's traits.

"Are you implying that I'm not beautiful?"

"No. You are, undoubtedly, one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life." Damn skippy. Both of my faces are flawless and after studying the lady in the mirror, I'd come to realize that the public one is just the way I would have looked as a woman- give or take a little. "But you're not the beautiful that Harry generally goes for."

"What kind of beauty does he go for?"

"The soft, feminine kind that's warm and sort of says that she wants children. A kind of Gryffindor beauty." I wondered if the Weasley's really were incestuous. The way he spoke of the sister was quite….disturbing.

"I want children." I responded automatically; Harry would have been beaming at that. "What kind of beauty do I have, then?"

"You seem cold and calculating. Not that I've really looked at women in the other houses, but if I had to wager, I'd say that you were a Slytherin, the kind that ran with Malfoy." Oh, the dramatic irony.

"Malfoy?" I did my absolute best to pretend I had no idea who that studly, sexy, hunk o' man was, since Ron had absolutely no idea that I was sitting, literally, right in front of his ugly mug.

"Yeah. He's a right git and the reason I don't want to call you Draco."

"But, I'm guessing that we look nothing alike? So why won't you call me Draco?"

"Because! You have similar personalities."

"How would you know what we're like? You've known me for all of ten minutes and it seems like you don't like this Malfoy fellow at all, so how would you know what he's like?"

"I just do!" What a Mensa level argument that was, Weasley.

"You seem like a closed minded person. Was your Ginnifer the same way?" At that point, I wasn't even bothering to continue the conversation. I just wanted to push as many of his buttons as possible.

"Her full name is Ginevra, not Ginnifer. And we aren't closed minded!"

"Yes, I'm sure that you aren't. It's not like you're yelling at a woman you barely know or anything?" I was quite sure that the brilliant sarcasm of my statement would go right over his unwashed, ginger head.

"This is different! You're nothing but a home wrecker." I was getting quite tired of hearing that phrase and my name in the same sentence.

"I see the familial resemblance. It's quite obvious, even to someone who managed to overlook the fact that you both have horribly bucked teeth, manish faces, fire-engine hair, yellow skin, a grotesque amount of freckles, and halitosis bad enough to fell the living dead; you're conclusion jumpers. Last time I saw Ginny she claimed I was a home wrecker, too." The man looked to be about ready to explode. I sent a distress call out to Harry through our bond, just in case the Weasel forgot I was a girl and decided to begin swinging.

"If more than one person thinks the same thing, then it must be true!" He'd wisely decided not to touch upon the insults to his family. He didn't want none of me.

"What a logical fallacy that is."

"Wow. I have no idea how you and Harry got together."

"I should hope not. Those kinds of thoughts are for mature audiences only.

"Who are you?"

"And _smart_ too! You, sir, are a real catch." I applauded him mockingly, the sound muffled by my white tea gloves.

"Answer the damn question, Coco."

"Lady Dracorine Abraxine Potter, bearer of the title that your baby sister lusts after. Also known as Draco. Hint hint," How's _that _for a double entendre, y'all?

I saw a head of fluffy black hair emerge from the floo grate and bit my lip to force tears to my eyes.

"You are such a _bitch_! I have no _idea_ what he sees in you." Harry's jaw dropped behind the red head's annoyingly broad back.

Silence reigned as supreme in my home, with Ron panting, me "crying", and Harry struggling to find his voice again.

"Get out of my house." Harry's voice sounded deep, sure and more than a little full of anger. It was hot.

"Blimey! Harry, wait! It's nothing like what you think it is. She's..she's-" The pissed off-edness of my master had jolted him from his reverie and Ron looked positively terrified.

"I didn't ask you about any of that and I didn't send you here to insult my wife. So, leave, Ron. And don't come back until you're ready to apologize." I let out a tiny sob when he said wife, burying my face in a soft white handkerchief crushed into my hands.

"Harry, mate, it's not what you think! Lemme explain! "

"Are you going to apologize to Coco?" He gestured to the couch, where I sat hunched, with my hair falling in a silken blonde cascade on either side of my hands.

"I'm sorry…Draco." I sat up gradually at that, pushing my then slightly-above-waist-length wavy hair to one side and exposing the fresh hickey from that morning. Ron's eyes practically popped from his head.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Weasley." My words came out stilted and drenched with misery. I brushed away the few tears that had managed to pop out, "I just hope that we can put this incident behind us. No hard feelings."

He nodded and shuffled his feet awkwardly, trying not to full on stare at the bruise. Harry, on the other hand, was gazing at it and my neck hungrily, like he wanted nothing more than to make my neck a collage of love bites.

"We'll- I'll see you later, Ron." As Harry strode toward me and the couch, he made a shooing motion at Ron.

He looked up gratefully and made a dash for the fireplace, almost tripping over the grate in his haste to get away from the difficult situation. I didn't blame him one bit; in the minutes after his escape, the living room turned into a porno shoot, starring Harry "The Jawbreaker" and Coco "Nympho" Potter.


	8. Good Riddance of the Bitch, Harry

A/N In case you haven't picked up on it yet, when the story is told from Draco's perspective, Harry names the chapter and when the story is in Harry's POV, Draco gets to say the title. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>I can't believe Ron actually had the gall to yell at a woman. My wife, no less! Granted, Draco is male- very <em>very <em>male, but still. I knew that Ron had no class, but I didn't think he'd call Dray that to his face. I should have expected nothing less from a younger Weasley. If they slacked off in raising Ginny, they had to have slacked in raising Ron. And gods know they slacked the _fuck _off in raising that girl. She has got to be the poorest excuse for a woman that I have ever met. It had to be a blessing in disguise to find out that Draco was for sale; else, I might've actually married into that.

* * *

><p>"Where've you been all night, Gin?" I'd awoken the day before to find a very hung-over Ginny Weasley slumped onto our kitchen table. Her blazing but limp red hair was fanned out in every direction and filled with feathers and glitter.<p>

"N' where, jus a girl frien's house in Bath. Couldja get me a ibuprofen, Harry?" All was said with forehead still attached to the wood of the table.

I sighed in disappointment, but still went to the cabinet to get the little half-empty pill bottle. I knew from experience that without it and a shot of tequila, Ginny was just a lump on our bed.

"Here." I used a bit of wandless to levitate the blue pill and the alcohol to her side.

"Thanks a load, Har." She pushed her hair away from her face gracelessly to gulp down her "medicine", accidentally revealing two fresh bruises on the side of her short neck.

"What're those?"

She looked up at me in confusion, mud brown eyes red rimmed and raccoon like from the obscene amounts of eyeliner and mascara she wore. "Whaddya mean?"

I motioned to my own neck instead of trying to speak to her. Her infidelities were really beginning to piss me off.

"Oh!" Her stubby hand flew to her neck at the marks, wincing when she made contact. "I just uh, burned m'self on the straightening iron before I went out."

"No, you didn't. I saw you before you went out, and your neck was unmarked. Not to mention your hair was natural."

"Well, when I got to Robert's house, he wanted to redo my hair with the hot tools and I burned myself then." She nodded to herself as though committing the story to memory.

"I thought you said you spent the night at a girl friend's house?"

"I did. We just went over to Robert's house to goof about a bit first."

"Why did Robert want to redo your hair if you were only going to spend the night at Alissa's house?"

"Well, we didn't go straight to 'lissa's house; we went to Club Gillyweed first."

"But you just said that you didn't go anywhere last night."

"I didn't! Least, not anywhere that counts."

"And the top wizarding club in Britain doesn't count, Gin?"

"No, Harry, it doesn't."

"So you went to Gillyweed for a couple of hours. Tell me you got back to Megaron's at a decent time and are ready for what we have to do today. You do remember, don't you?"

"Yeah. You know Meggie. She's the motherly type, always makes sure I'm in bed by twelve on school nights and all that. And how could I possibly forget such an occasion." There was no occasion.

"So Alissa was cool with you not crashing at her place? So you could spend the night at Janine's?" She wasn't even _trying_ that time.

"Yes, Harry! Jeez! Why do you always have to check up on me like this?"

"Because you're a liar, Ginny! In the last five minutes, you've told me that you slept over at three different peoples' houses last night. Which I know you didn't, because they each called me worried sick, since they saw you take off with some scruffy looking guy at The Marauder!"

"He wasn't scruffy looking! He was perfect."

"Then why don't you go live with him!" I was so fed up with her cheating. It was the fourth time that month.

"Because!"

"Because why, Ginny? Is it because he isn't rich enough for you? Or is he not famous enough?"

"Shut up, Harry. It's too early for this." She'd gone back to laying her head on the table, smearing her whorey make-up all over the place.

"It's nearly noon." I said absentmindedly, distracted by a niggling thought. "If I weren't Harry Freaking Potter, would you still be with me?"

"Harry, I-I think I'm going to go back out. See Ron and Bill and Gred or something, yeah?" She rose without looking at me and pulled on her jacket. Her outfit was non-existent; a sparkly pink tube top that could barely control her huge breasts and a mini skirt that seemed to consist of an inch of fringe.

"Yeah. Alright. I'll see ya." She was probably going to go back to Mr. Scruffy's cardboard box, but at least I had my answer.

"Don't hold up lunch on my account. I'll probably eat with Mum or something." Which was code for "I'll be busy fucking some other man. Just go about your normal day."

As I stood there reflecting on what had brought me to this point, Ginny left, slamming the heavy oak doors behind her. She could have used the floo, but she obviously didn't want me to know her location. It was at that moment that I resolved to myself to never allow Ginny Weasley to call my home, her home again. If she thought that she could sleep with whomever she wanted to and just use me for my fame and money, she had another think coming. If I wanted to marry a gold digger, I would have gone after Lavender Brown. Or any of the groupies who followed me around after the end of the War.

* * *

><p>So, that afternoon, instead of reporting to the Ministry for work, I cleaned out Ginny's closets, removing all vestiges of her trampy clothing and hooker heels. I grabbed all of her cosmetics and supplies, and threw them in a trunk- any trunk- and put them by the door, so that she would see them whenever she stumbled in that night. That would show her; I wouldn't allow her to spend another night in our bed when she treated our relationship like such a farce.<p>

To be honest, I couldn't remember the last time I had used Ginny's body to slake my lust. It wasn't that I found the female form repulsive; goodness knows that I found Ginny's body hot at some point, but somehow along the way, I just lost it. I'd always been attracted to both men and women, and Ginny, with her breasts and square jaw, had appealed to both my natures. But within the year we had been out of Hogwarts, Ginny grew a bit slaggy and distant, a though she couldn't stand to be around me more than was absolutely necessary, since she knew how I felt about promiscuous behavior. We lost our love, but out of convenience, we stayed together. I, because I couldn't be bothered to find a new partner and everyone loves to see the hero with a heroine and she because she couldn't bear to give up the perks that came along with dating the hero of the wizarding world.

As I sat on the ugly fabric couch that Gin had picked out for the living room sipping a glass of Chardonnay, flipping through my old Hogwarts albums, Hedwig II swooped in and dropped a missive onto my lap. I had expressly warned every one of my friends and acquaintances not to bother me today, but after a close inspection, I saw that the letter was from the Ministry's Auction League, informing me that I would have to oversee the bidding and purchase of three pureblood virgins. Misuzu Myaki, Adrian Daniels, and one Draco Malfoy. The Draco Malfoy. The man I had to pretend Ginny was when we had sex..lately-ish.

And he was for sale. For anyone to purchase! Even me. I was no fool, even then. I knew that Draco would never give me a second glance if he had the choice, but I loved him. Oh Merlin, I loved him. I loved his barking laughter and his too long nose. I loved his arrogant attitude and the way his lip curled when he spoke French. But he'd never look at me. Not just because I was a half blood, but because I was Harry Potter, the man who helped put him in the situation. But, I'd always felt that he was the one thing that was missing in my life. If I'd had the choice as to who I would spend the rest of my life with, Draco would win, hands down, every time over anyone. Draco Malfoy was my soul mate, and I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on his beauty. Plus, if I bought him, I would undoubtedly be saving him from a worse fate. Who goes to auctions in order to buy helpless virgins? Weirdoes, that's who. And I'd be damned if I let Draco go to a weirdo when he could be with someone who actually cared about him. Like myself.

So, I did what thought was best at the time: I used bursts of wandless magic to apparate Ginny's things straight to the Burrow, changed the locks, removed Ginny's magic signature from my wards, and called all the house elves in the Manor to give the entire house a good washing, because come the next day, they would have a new, better Mistress.


	9. Babe, You're Talkative Today

For the most part, in those first years, I simply went along with whatever Harry told me to do. After enduring hours upon hours of, what amounts to being the equivalent of Muggle hypnosis in Debriefing, it just seemed like the best idea at the time, which is not to say that I always allowed my retraining to get in the way of finding out what I truly wanted to know. Or attempting to, anyway.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand you."<p>

It was the morning of my birthday, and we had just finished breakfast. Harry'd told me before we left the bedroom that we'd be going out, but I'd expected to floo there. Instead, he had trellypowned someone and a loud muddy yellow box on wheels had rumbled up our yard a half an hour later. Almost as soon as it arrived, Harry pushed me into the filthy backseat and gave the dark skinned bearded man complex directions to our destination.

"What do you mean?"

Harry turned away from the window separating us from the driver to face me, a slight indention in his brow.

"I mean, what's going on?"

"Well, right now, we're in taxi on our way to a car dealership." No, duh.

"No, I mean. What's _really_ going on?"

"Do you think that's a conversation for now?"

We both glanced at the man seated in front of us, who seemed to be in his own little world as he sat jabbering into the small black device in his hand.

"The man's a Muggle, I seriously doubt that he'd have any inkling of what's going on, even if he were to stop talking to himself."

"Yes, but, we're in public. Where anyone could be listening."

"So? I doubt I'll ever get the story out of you in any other setting. Was my purchase a snap decision or what? What is your long term plan for me?"

"Look. We could fight about this or you could just accept it."

"This? Can't bear to actually describe it, can you, Potter?"

"Neither can you, Potter!"

"'M still a Malfoy on the inside. And that's different. You didn't go through that shit."

"I've been through enough."

"Oh poor me. I'm Harry Potter. I'm the reluctant hero. I'm so obviously bloody gorgeous, but you can't see it because I wear ugly wire framed glasses that are taped in the middle and my hair is a bit too poufy at the top. My parents and everyone who has ever cared about me have died. Oh boo fucking hoo. Cry me the river Styx, why don'tcha?"

"You're such a brat, Draco."

"Oh. I'm a brat? I see. And who was the one who went and fucking purchased another human being because they thought they weren't going to be recognized any other way? Oh right, you. Because if you couldn't have me, no one could, yeah? "

"You should be thanking me, you little shit."

"For what? Hiking my price up so that it made such a ruckus that it was put in record books? Those don't go away and now anyone searching for my name will know what happened to that dashing young Malfoy fellow!"

"No one has ever called you dashing."

I ran a hand through my newly straightened hair and shot him a quick glare.

"That's beside the point."

"Why can't you just say thank you for saving my life and be done with it?"

"I'd say thank you for saving my life and be done with it if you released me."

"Not happening anytime soon. Or ever." He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at me with a dare-me look on his face.

"Then why should I be thankful? I'm still stuck with you in this awkward situation." I waved a hand between the two of us rapidly.

"You're stuck? Look who I'm magically attached to."

"You're lucky."

"_You're lucky_" His voice was a cheap imitation of my smooth aristocratic drawl.

"Who's the fucking brat now, Potter?"

"Language."

"Exploding Snap. Why are we saying random words?"

"It's not random. I'm telling you to watch your mouth."

"Bullshit! You want me to motherfucking watch my goddam mouth?"

"Yes." He heaved a great sigh as though it were paining him to speak to me, "But without all the laced in profanities."

"Too fucking bad. Besides, you just called me a little shit. That's hardly a nice thing to call someone."

"That's different. I make the rules, so I get to break the rules."

"Did you steal that line from my father?"

"No. But I'd love to steal his pimp cane."

"T'isn't a pimp cane, but I'd hardly expect someone of your background to recognize the power symbolized by the heirloom of which you speak."

"It's a wonder you can even hear me."

"Why would I have difficulties hearing you?"

"Because you've got your head so far up your father's ass." He looked so smug that I just had to pop his holier-than-thou balloon.

"Dead father."

"Wha?

"My father's dead. So's my mum." I had only intended to say it to wound Harry, but my throat began constricting by the time I got to "mum". Gods, I missed them so much.

"Oh. I hadn't realized." He looked truly remourseful, even if he didn't apologize or offer his condolences.

"It wasn't really publicized. Aurors botching up a simple snatch and go like that."

"Aurors don't usually do a messy job."

"Yes, well we can safely assume that the Aurors in question had some sort of vendetta against the Malfoy clan."

"Probably. They were right gits, the lot of 'em."

"Gee, thanks. It's not like I'm one."

"Actually, you aren't. We went over this at breakfast. Don't tell me that place addled your brain."

"That place, Potter? Remember what your mud-blood said? 'Fear of the name only increases the fear of the thing itself'. Or something of that nature."

"Yeah yeah."

"Plus, once a Malfoy always a Malfoy. It's quite difficult to remove these stunningly good looks from the gene pool."

"Hmm. Not so hard, I don't think."

"Shut up, you wanker. It's difficult naturally, not by your artificial means."

"Ah."

"Don't say that. You sound like a child getting a check up from an oral-Healer."

"Speaking of Healers-."

"We weren't."

"What do you want to do?"

"Get the stupid ker that you're buying me and go back to bed. Or better yet! Buy back my freedom."

"You don't have that kind of money."

"I've loads of money."

"But you're priceless. I'd never sell you to anyone."

"What a bad investor you must be."

Harry shrugged sheepishly, "I actually meant to do as a job."

"Oh. I was meant to take over my father's business overseeings."

"Was meant to?"

"Yes. I'm not eligible anymore because of my slave status. Don't wince at that, you pansy! Get used to hearing the word."

"Well, where did the overseeings go?"

"I suspect that they're in your control, since you legally own me. Stop grimacing; it's not like you didn't choose your fate."

"I'll look into that for you. If they are in my control, would you like to oversee the er..overseeings?"

"Not really, no. I've never been too terribly interested in business and whenever my father brought me into his office, I'd fall fast asleep; it was dreadfully boring."

"Well. You have to do something."

"I don't really know how to do anything."

"You used to be pretty good at Potions."

"Pretty good? Potter, I could have become a Master in about three years."

"Why don't you do that, then?"

"Because that's what Severus did."

"Yes, and?"

"And he was my godfather and I loved him and I could never live up to his standards."

"Yes. A loved one's legacy can make you give up things."

"What would you know about loved ones?"

"I did know Sirius for two years before he died."

"So?"

"So, he willed everything to me. And I do mean everything."

"You aren't making any sense, which isn't that different than usual, but this time, I haven't an inkling of what you're speaking of."

"Your father has a Wizengamot seat. Or had, rather."

"Yeah. And?"

"And he was a Lord. At the time of Sirius' death, he was also a Lord."

"And because he didn't have any heirs and you were his godson, you received the title?"

"And the seat, yeah."

"But?"

"But I gave the seat, and almost everything that was willed to me, up."

"Why?"

"Because Sirius' memory haunted everything that used to be his."

"How dreadful. I suspect that everything with his memory plays jokes on people. Black was a, well, black sheep."

"So he told me."

"I can't believe you even gave the title up."

"How did you know I gave the title up?

"You're referred to as Lord Potter above all, and the Potters were beneath the Noble House of Black. Ergo, you relinquished the title."

"Clever."

"I try. One question though."

"Shoot."

"You haven't renounced your right to the title yet."

"That wasn't a question. And I don't plan to."

"Well that makes limited sense. Why give up the title, but keep your right to have that title?"

"It makes sense; I've always been known as Harry Potter. 'Harry Potter, the Lord Black' is confusing. Plus, Sirius would have wanted me to have at least kept it safe from the title-grabbing distant cousins."

"Like me?"

"Like you."

"Funny. I still get to have the rights to the title Black. I'll just have to pop Lady in front of it." I paused, savoring the victory over my dead relative. "Why do I have to pop Lady in front of it again?"

"Because I'm the Lord of the Manor. There can't technically be two Lords in a manor or title. Plus, you're a girl."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you kinda are. Registered under female as of two hours ago."

"Tell that to my still-very-much-there cock."

"I would but we might frighten our cabbie."

"Frighten the cabbie? Even if I weren't a dame, I'd still be the hottest piece of ass he'd ever see."

"Probably."

"Probably? Potter, you practically came on yourself when you saw me this morning. The look on your face was positively hilarious."

"Glad you found it humorous."

"Glad you didn't give up your already tiny sense of humor along with everything else. You've already given half your life to the Ministry."

"You're right. I really have given up too much in my life."

"Gave up the Weaslette, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that wasn't too hard of a decision. Sort of like deciding what your job will be won't be too difficult of a decision."

"What a crappy segue."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion. What do you want to do?"

"Can't I just stay at your Manor and read?"

"It's your home, too. I didn't think you'd like to stay. It'd get boring with no one to torment all day."

"I don't just torment people all day, actual Potter."

"That's right; you also enjoy a good smirk."

"Hardee har har. You must be so proud of yourself."

"Actually, I am. I thought that was rather good. What did you think?"

"I think you should stick to the savior shtick and leave the comic relief to the professionals."

"Oh well, you can't say I didn't try."

"On the contrary sir, you tried too hard."

"Is my technique working, at least?"

"Technique for what?"

"I'm trying to relax you, sweetie. Disarm you and all that."

"Do I even want to know why?"

"Nah."

There was silence in our half of the warm box for a few minutes before I had to interrupt it. It was just too strange to be sitting in comfortable silence with Harry sodding Potter.

"Do these tackies always take so long?"

"Taxis." He corrected "It depends."

"On what?"

"How far away the place you're trying to get to is."

"Oh. Nothing like flooing."

"No. Nothing like flooing." He nodded, agreeing with me.

"How far away do you think it is?"

"It shouldn't be too long now."

"Harry?"

"Draco."

"How are we supposed to get this cor to the Manor? They sound big and the tacky is already so squished."

"We won't be carrying it. We'll be driving it."

"Oh. Driving. Is it difficult?"

"Not once you get the hang of it."

"I can't believe you managed to make that sound so superior."

"It's a gift."

"Or a curse to me. You're inferior to almost everyone; you shouldn't be allowed to make superior noises."

"If that wasn't an ego boost, I don't know what is."

"And now you think you've earned the right to use sarcasm, too?"

"Well, as they say: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

"If by 'they' you mean Muggles, because I've never heard that idiom before."

"Breaking out the fancy words, are we, Malfoy?"

"Ha! You said Malfoy! I'm a Potter!"

"Glad you finally understand." He leered at me, leaning into my personal space.

"Fuck you." Frowning at my slip-up and his sheer nerve, I pressed a hand to his firm chest and attempted to push him away.

"Maybe someday soon." He retorted, grabbing my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

I drew it back and settled in closer to my window, contemplating my new reflection. The rest of the ride was endured with only the driver's rapid Farsi as background noise.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey guys, it's your author here. I've been working on my fic, when I realized that I still haven't found a beta. I've been shopping around, but no luck so far.:( If you happen to be a good beta or know one, please don't hesitate to send me a message. Thanks a bushel!


	10. Look What You Made Me Do, Love

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait, you guys. I actually lost the drive with all the stories on it, and had to rewrite them all from scratch...Just wanted to say thank you so much for sticking with me and leaving the comments; they really are like crack:) Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>After a while we sort of fell into a pattern: I would ignore the sort of obvious signs and details of my enslavement and Harry would do his best to not shove it into my face or down my throat every two minutes or so. And it usually worked; instead of just ordering me to do something or another, we would reach a compromise. It got to the point where if I were to squint my eyes extra hard, I could almost see a real relationship. But every now and again, the cold, hard truth would come clawing its way from the depths that we had pushed it under.<p>

"Dray! Come on out, now; you're going to use up all of the hot water." Harry's impatient voice wafted in under the closed bathroom door where I was standing mindlessly under the spray of our nearly state-of-the-art shower. The water shot out, not only from the usual mounted spigot, but from the side walls at three different levels and the back wall at two. It was truly a gods send whenever stress became a factor in our lives since the hot jets massaged the kinks out of your body far faster than any human hands ever could, muggle trained or magic honed.

"Coming!" I managed call out, narrowly avoiding a stream of water going straight towards my mouth. Blindly reaching for the knob, I shut off the shower and held my hand out for a warm, freshly laundered towel. A gnarled green hand placed it in my upturned palm and I dragged it over my face roughly, getting all of the stinging water off of my silvery eyelashes. "That'll be all Mitzy."

As I carefully stepped onto the shower mat that Harry had had brought in after I'd slipped and hit my head one too many times, I heard the tell-tale crack of creature apparition. I relaxed immediately; I may not actively hate the silly creatures, but I was far from comfortable being nude in front of one, my first day at the Potter Manor aside. Drying my body off with quick no nonsense movement, I avoided glancing into the enchanted mirror mounted on the wall; the main mirrors were the ones that threw my girl reflection back at me. After satisfying my need to be completely dry before putting on clothing, I pulled on a pair of black dressy slacks that clung just a little too much to my hips and ass for me to be completely comfortable and a burgundy turtleneck that was androgynous enough to meet both Harry and my ridiculous gender standards.

"Is there another man in there that I should be worried about?" Harry joked, once again banging at the door like he had no upbringing.

Instead of responding, I turned to the other mounted mirror opposite the door to arrange my hair. Harry knew good and well there were no other men in the house; after the Finnegan Fiasco, he'd locked the wards up tighter than the Weasel's family's coin purse. I ran an emerald encrusted comb through it a couple of times, just to run out the snags, and dipped my hand into the small glass bowl on the main vanity to retrieve a hair bow. After throwing the majority of my waist length hair into a sloppy bun at the top of my head, I finger-brushed my wispy bangs down and to the side. Turning my head this way and that, I smiled, satisfied that, like the turtle neck, it was androgynous enough that both Harry and I would like it. Thoroughly brushing my teeth, I collected my dirty clothes and threw them in a hamper. I put the toothbrush back into its caddy and yawned, ready to exit the balmy room. Like a motherfucking mack, I threw a courtesy glance at Dracorine's reflection and, happy that she too looked rosy faced and gorgeous, I flicked my hand out at the door, wandlessly pushing it open.

"Keep your goddamned panties on, Potter" I drawled, looking around my seemingly empty bedroom "I had to make sure my hair looked alright."

"Your hair always looks alright, baby." His voice filtered in from the open walk-in closet, where I was sure that he was dallying over what fugly tie or another to pick.

"Only 'alright'?" I teased, stepping in to see- what do you know- Harry holding a green and purple striped tie and a tie covered in paisley print. He offered them up for my inspection.

"Neither, Harry." I answered, heaving a much aggrieved sigh before he could ask the question.

"Which would should I wear then, Coco? I don't seem to have very much inside of this freaking room!"

I simply rolled my eyes, and crossed the space to undo the top button of his shirt. The flush that started at his cheeks spread to his neck and upper chest as I exposed an extra inch of that smooth, tanned skin. "You'll just wear another one of the ties that I've picked out for you. They're in a drawer around here somewhere, honey."

"Could you maybe find one for me, please? I'll start breakfast while I'm waiting, I promise!" His big green eyes pleaded with mine, just a hint of shine on them. "I just don't want to be late for work again. You know how Shacklebolt is, especially since he knows about Coco."

I turned away from his adorable expression to rummage through his, admittedly tiny, side of the closet. "Who doesn't know about Coco nowadays? In case you didn't know it, Potter, my arse is fucking fine." I jumped when I felt his large palm smack the left cheek of said arse.

"Oh trust me, I know all about that fabulous arse."

I whipped around to face him, my brows beetled, but the effect was ruined by the silly grin that was plastered to my face. "Weren't you going to start breakfast?"

Harry conceded, chuckling as he put both hands in the air nonthreateningly. "I'm going, I'm going! I'll be in the main kitchen when you're done."

I turned back to the ransacked drawer where he had obviously been throwing things about, set on finding a simple black tie. "I'm sure I can find my way down."

"Alright. Thanks, baby." He bent down to brush a kiss to my forehead, before he exited through the open door. "I love you."

"Yep!" I yelled after him.

Turns out the plain ties were buried under all of his novelty junk. I yanked a black bowtie out of the pile, then walked over to my side to pick out shoes. I settled on a pair of black flats and quietly trooped down the two flights of stairs that led to the kitchen. As I approached the doorway, I hugged the wall, intent on scaring the living daylights out of Harry; the last time that I offered to make breakfast, he'd apparated right in front of my nose, making me drop an entire plate of crepes onto the floor. And they had been the best kind: strawberry! Inching my way toward Harry's turned back, I jumped to the side and screamed, snapping an end of his bowtie at the bared skin at his neck.

"Hello, Dray." Harry smiled at me calmly, holding out a mug of my favorite brand of tea chocolate, The Witch's Brew.

"Um, hi, Potter." Confused, I took it from him, carefully peering into it to make sure there were no obvious sign of a retaliatory attack in it.

He pulled my chair out from under the table and set a steaming bowl onto my placemat. Whatever it was smelled delicious, like brown sugar and apples.

"Sit down." He motioned toward the chair as he took his own seat. "I made some of that special oatmeal you make me buy every time I go out."

"Thanks, I guess, Harry." I did as he said and picked up the spoon, eyeing the too stoic man across from me.

"Now," a knowing smile flashed before it disappeared behind his mug, which stated: World's Greatest Savior, "don't you feel foolish? After all, I made your favorite everything and didn't even jump when you tried to 'scare' me."

I shrugged, tucking an errant strand of my yellow bangs behind my ear, "I wouldn't say foolish, per say."

He chuckled, hurriedly bringing the mug down from his face, "What would you call it then?"

I glared at his stupid mocking face, "Do shut your mouth, Harry Potter."

"Okay, I get it; you don't wanna talk about your shortcomings." He threw his hands up again and went back to sipping slowly at the coffee in his cup. Vile stuff, coffee; the habit picked up from a brief stint the two of us spent in America for the Ministry.

Likewise, I finished my breakfast before pushing my dishes toward my tactless partner. "I have no shortcomings." I stood up and impatiently motioned for him to stand too, whipping the tie out of my pocket, where I'd tucked it when Harry had non-reacted. "C'mon, you haven't got all day, Potter."

"Glad you recognize I've got better things to do with my time than look at you all day, Coco."

"You know you're teasing the person you sleep next to at night, right?" I asked, tightening the knot on his bowtie just a little higher than needed.

"I know." He nodded, starting to lean down to plant one on my forehead again.

I shook my head and got a better grip on his tie, yanking him down farther to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"What's got you so happy this morning, mm?" he questioned, sounding unreasonably pleased with himself.

"I dunno, just feeling good today, y'know?" I slid my hand farther up his neck, holding him to my lips, not quite deepening the kiss.

"CoCo, 'm gonna 'e late." he murmured against my lips, before sighing and sliding his hand up my thin cotton turtleneck, kneading the soft flesh of my waist.

I ignored his protests and ran my tongue along the seam of Harry's lips, willing him to open up for me. With a barely suppressed groan that reverberated through me, his lips fell open and my tongue plunged into his mouth, immediately tapping at his soft palette, a place I knew made his fingers spasm. I found myself with both arms thrown around Harry's shoulders while he snatched a hand from my shirt to clear off the kitchen table with a single swipe of his lightly furred arm. I detached my mouth from his with a loud sucking noise and drew back to take a good look at Harry. His lips were a puffy, swollen red and his pupils were so dilated, there was barely a ring of emerald around it. I flexed my hands on his shoulders and pulled him back to me. Instead of leaning right in, he braced himself with his hands on either side of my waist to peer into my face.

"You are so fucking pretty, you know that?" A large hand came up to stroke my cheekbone. "I'm so glad I hav-"

I rolled my eyes at his Gryffindor sentimentality, pushing his mildly sweaty mitt away from the delicate skin of my face.

"Shut up, Potter; you just ruined the mood." I slowly brought my knee up and edged him off of me.

Rolling onto my side, I popped up from the table and stretched, pulling down my turtleneck and looking anywhere else but at Harry.

His paw latched onto my wrist just below the white gold bracelet he had gotten me for Christmas, "Aw, Drake! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Gradually and deliberately glancing down at the joining of our hands, I irritably flicked my eyes back up to his, "Didn't you say that you were going to be late to work?"

Harry cursed, almost taking my arm with him as he bolted toward the living area. He scrambled around to find his briefcase, then, in a green flash, flooed to the Ministry. I breathed a sigh of relief and tightened up my bun as I calmly walked up the stairs to grab my bag for the day, which was decidedly not a purse.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Mrs. Potter, so nice to see you again!"<p>

How I hated the fake women of the Ministry's Decorating Committee. They were always talking about one another whenever one was absent and I'd heard from Hermione a time or two that the absolute worst gossip was always about me. Evidently, not only had I been carrying on a torrid affair with Seamus for more than a year, but I was also three months pregnant with his lovechild. That was news to me, since Harry had been attempting to knock me up for half a year by then.

"Oh, Tori, it's wonderful to see you!" I opened my arms to the heavily pregnant woman, "And I've told you time and time again to call me Coco, honey."

She buried her head in the joint between my shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. I simply stood there and allowed it; Mrs. Astoria Nott nee Greengrass had been my betrothed before the end of the war. She didn't know who I really was, of course, but I could tell that she found comfort in being able to sort of absorb the smell of Draco Malfoy from my skin.

* * *

><p>When Harry had…acquired me, he hadn't thought about any sort of backstory, so we'd had to create an amalgamation of the truth and an unquestionable falsehood: Dracorine Potter nee Malfoy had been born a pureblood: the daughter of Lucius Malfoy (Father, forgive me!) and a nameless blood traitor. She had been raised quietly in a home near to the Malfoy residence, but away from Narcissa's spiteful and vindictive reach(Mother, I don't mean it!). She was taught the pureblood way, but due to Narcissa's insistence that Draco not know about his illegitimate half-sister, she had been homeschooled in the art of magic. Before the start of the war, Dracorine and her mother had been whisked out of the country to save them from Voldemort, who would have looked down upon her entire nuclear family: Lucius, because he was a rich absentee parent to a child born of a mother that he was ashamed of (sound vaguely familiar anyone?), Carolyn, the mother, because she was a blood traitor, and Dracorine because she had refused to participate in anything to do with the war.<p>

The year after the war ended, Carolyn had been Avada-ed after she had refused to relinquish Dracorine into Auror custody. After proving her innocence, a sobbing Dracorine had been ordered to follow Auror Potter to a temporary home. Harry had taken pity on the newly orphaned girl and allowed the young woman to live in his freshly constructed manor instead of forcing her to reside in the slums the rest of the pureblood children had been led to.

The story was that in the three months prior to the marriage, I had been living in a wing that wasn't visible to Ginny, who was known for her hatred of all purebloods who weren't in her family. While nothing untoward had happened between Harry and Dracorine in the time that he had still been with Ginny, they had fallen in a chaste love. The day that Harry left Ginny had simply pushed Coco and Harry closer together, and the following day, believing that what they had was a pure love, since there had been no real physical contact of the sexual sort between them, they married quietly in a private ceremony with only the wizard in charge and a drunken squib to act as witnesses. So far, the story had stuck with very few people questioning the validity of it. Who would, honestly? I have the classic Malfoy features, just feminized, with a few features that could easily be explained away with the blood traitor mother. It was a truly tidy explanation; it told why I knew all about Draco while he knew nothing of me, also why the "two" of us could have been twins.

The only tripping point, honestly, was the age difference. Draco was/is the same age as Harry Potter, or rather he would have been if the capturing Aurors who had rounded up the pureblooded children hadn't permanently de-aged us. I know what that sounds like: it seems as though they made us like twelve for the rest of our natural born lives, but no. What they did was alter our ages so that we were four years younger. By all rights, when I showed up at the camps, I should have been seventeen years old, instead, I was a barely pubescent child, missing my parents more than anything else. Then, when I was finally at the precipice of adulthood (for the second time, mind you), they had to go a sell me to Potter, who was twenty one, my rightful age.

But, back to the problems that the age thing presents. Everyone knows that Lucius was undoubtedly devoted to me-rather Draco- in his early years, meaning that there was little time for affairs to be had. Thankfully, few people bring that up, so I believe that we're still, after seven years of marriage, safe.

* * *

><p>"Come sit, Coco; we haven't been able to start anything without you here." She smiled at me and gestured towards the collection of chairs that held the slightly frowning women of the Decorating Committee.<p>

"She's right, Lady Potter," the wife of the man in charge of the Department of Mysteries chimed in sourly, "everyone's been requesting you."

"Yeah," an obnoxiously high pitched voice whined, "it's like the rest of us aren't even he-ah!"

The body belonging to the voice stood up, tugging down her too-short leopard print skirt. Mrs. Nicole "Kiki" Shacklebolt had been brought over from the states by Kingsley after the America trip that the entire administration staff of the Ministry had taken. An overly tanned and plucked New Jersey native, Kiki liked to buy all of her clothes two sizes too short and two sizes too small. If there was a woman that the Committee hated more than me, it was Kiki. Even I couldn't stand her, and I knew what it was like to be an outcast.

"Alright," she started, believing herself to be entitled to a leadership position due to her husband, "so, we've been contacted to do three homes this week. Well, not doing the homes this week- but the people called for us this week. Well, what I mean is-"

"I think we get it, Nicole. Just describe what we have to do." Astoria interjected quietly, hand resting peacefully on her rounded stomach.

She spun around to look at her, long, black hair fanning out behind her. "Okay." She nodded, accidentally showing the lines where her clip-ins had been added. "So, three houses, right? The first is mine and Kingsie's. Our anniversary is three days from now, and I want a big blow out fest, so we should totally start there. Then, it's- surprise! – me and Kingsie's again, but this time our summer home in Italy. My grandparents gave us a little villa and I want it decorated for the beginning of summer, kay?"

Whilst Kiki was involved in talking about herself and her newfound wealth, the rest of the ladies, including myself, were swapping disbelieving looks. The girl was out of her head, or rather had her head so far up her probably orange-

"Then it's Head Auror Potter's house for his and his wife's anniversary. That's a few days after mine. The first one, that is. Anyhow, I met his wife and she was so charming, just gorgeous," she gushed, stupidly unaware that I was in the room. Dumb bitch, "She wasn't so into him, though. I saw her totally making fuck-me eyes at that sexy piece Finnegan. I bet she fucks him in their marriage bed, just like you guys all sai-"

"So your house, Coco? I didn't know you were having a party this year." Tori tactfully began, glaring at the blushing women out of the corner of her eye.

"I didn't either." I frowned at Nicole, who didn't even have the good sense to look abashed. I'd never spoken to the women at a single social gathering. "When did you get the assignment?"

"Oh, this morning. He just popped in and handed it over." She smiled obliviously, tugging at her too large to be natural breasts. _Fake_ dumb bitch.

"Ah. Well, I'll just go talk to him then."

I stood up, brushing any stray wrinkles out of the fabric of my skirt and bustled off toward the designated floo-ing fireplace before anyone could say anything.

"Bye, Coco." Tori called out, her sweetly soft voice the last thing I heard as I travelled back to the manor.

* * *

><p>"What? What is it? Are you alright?" Harry burst through the floo as though his wand was on fire.<p>

I tilted my chin up to glare him straight in the eye. "I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, I'm Mr. Potter again." He joked, taking my hand and tugging me down onto his lap on the couch, "What did I do this time?"

I didn't struggle; merely sat heavily, turning my glare up a notch or two "We're having an anniversary party?"

"Yes. I thought you'd be excited about it, darling," he reached to cup my face, rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone, "You love parties."

I cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "Yes, but did you perhaps think that I wouldn't want to celebrate our anniversary?"

Surely Harry wasn't that stupid.

"Why wouldn't you? It was the happiest day of our lives."

Apparently, he was.

"Happiest day of our lives? It wasn't some glorious wedding, Potter!" I spat, wrenching myself out of his grasp, "You bought me. As a slave."

"Why must you always do this when I'm trying to do something nice for you-for us?" he heaved a great sigh as though _I_ were causing _him_ horrific distress.

"Because this is thoughtless. As are most of your plans to 'do something nice' for me. I'm your slave, and I refuse to carry on this charade as a happy marriage at a party. Especially one that I've planned." I stamped my foot in front of him, a little irritated that the sound probably would have been more convincing if I'd have worn the heels from this morning.

"You know, you're right, Draco." His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together.

"Glad you could see it my way." I began my signature smirk, but stopped as I saw he was going to continue talking.

"You are a slave. And as such you are bound to do as your master commands you." My eyes grew wider as I realized what he was about to do. "And as your master, I command you to…to…to plan and attend this party with absolutely no back talk. I don't want your snide remarks or your angry looks. I want to see you smile and enjoy it. Am I clear?"

Hot tears of anger, betrayal and pain flew to my eyes as I felt the bonds of my servitude encase me, squeezing the air from my lungs and tightening around my throat. I felt my willpower bow to the overwhelming force of Harry's magic as it surrounded me in a cloyingly thick purple haze, bringing me to my knees. I held out as long as possible, until the need to breathe-the need to survive- forced me into submission. Waiting until I caught my breath, I stood, albeit shakily, straightening out my outfit.

Looking my "husband" straight in the eye, I prepared to spew angry, hateful things at him until I had my fill, but the only word to pass my lips was: "Crystal."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You know how I feel about reading and reviewing. Please do it. It makes me feel good inside. Warm and gooey. Like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Everyone likes those.**


	11. You'll Get What's Coming To You

**A/N**: Thank you so much for your patience. It's been a while since I uploaded again, but good news! I had to break this chapter up into two parts so it wouldn't get too _too_ massive, so that'll be the party scenes. (Yay!) Thanks once again for reading, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Fuck you.<p>

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine, Harry!" I sang cheerfully at the lump with untidy black hair on the left side of the bed as I waved my wand, conjuring a tin pail full of ice-cold water to hover over him.<p>

The lump groaned a bit, pulling the hippogriff down feathered duvet higher up, so that only an extra poufy tuft of hair was on display. Undeterred, I crept closer and prodded it in the back of the neck with my wand. Hard. That produced a slightly louder, more miserable groan, but my useless pile of a husband/master remained resolutely buried under the covers, though he tried not so valiantly to swat me away with a sleep heavy hand.

"Come on; I've been awake for hours already. It's time to get up."

No response.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." I began to walk out of our spacious bedroom, pausing at the doorway.

I could hear Harry sigh in relief. The bastard.

I lifted my wand and, focusing on the pail, brought it swiftly down, overturning its contents onto Harry. He awoke with a yell, rolling halfway off the bed, trapped in the covers he used last night. Fighting his way out, he squinted up at me with no small amount of malice in his narrowed green eyes.

Replying quickly to his unvoiced question, I smiled benevolently at Harry. "Breakfast is in ten, and I'd prefer if you didn't come downstairs resembling a nearly drowned rat."

* * *

><p>"Good morning, sunshine!" I chirruped as I placed a plate of full of nothing but toast at the head of the table: Harry's usual seat for breakfast.<p>

Harry simply stumbled in, looking more or less like a zombie. A dry zombie, but still. As he sat heavily in his chair, he glared at his food with disdain, as though glaring at it would suddenly transfigure it into bacon and hash browns. Instead of commenting, he wisely chose to cast his eyes around the room, anything to avoid the subtle angry looks I could still shoot at him as I plated my own mouthwatering meal.

"I've simply got loads of errands to run today, dear." I took my place down the table at Harry's right hand, smiling as I tucked into my egg white omelet and pancake combo. He looked longingly at my plate. "With the party coming up, I just don't have enough hours in my day to get everything I need accomplished."

He grunted back at me, nibbling on the crust of the mildly burnt bread. I kept smiling between bites, savoring my food with delicate little hums and moans. Noticing that I had forgotten my drink, I stood and retrieved a glass of orange juice, setting my napkin onto my chair. As I took my seat once more, I glanced courteously at Harry, who seemed to be having a difficult time attempting to swallow his unbuttered or jellied toast.

"Would you like something to drink, darling?" I blinked at him worriedly; if he choked, I would have to perform the Heimlich maneuver and possibly spew wet crumbs all over the new dining table linens.

He nodded at me gratefully, since all the saliva in his mouth was currently in use, trying to make the toast moist enough to swallow.

"The water pitcher is over there, but I think you'll have to wash another cup out. The dishwasher's on the fritz again."

Harry glared at me with as much animosity as a man with crumbs clinging to his morning growth could, before standing to retrieve his own beverage. To his muffled outrage, and subsequently my amusement, I'd had the last of the orange juice, so he was stuck eating what could possibly have been the most bland and biblically appropriate meal ever to be seen in the 21st century: darkened bread and a cup full of tepid, room temperature water.

* * *

><p>Warm, tanned arms wrapped themselves around my midsection as Harry ducked to kiss the nape of my neck, "You smell good."<p>

He was attempting to put himself back into my good graces with compliments and easy affection, but he had royally screwed up this time; it would take more than five minutes of contemplation on his part to make any of this the least bit better. I suppose I simply should have been grateful that I could still have my bitter thoughts and feelings ensconced safely within my mind.

"Thank you." I replied breezily, continuing the careful application of mascara to my glamour, "It was a gift from Theo."

"Nott?" He demanded, tightening his grip on my trunk.

With an indignant gasp, I lowered the black wand and met Harry's eyes in the mirror straight on. "Of course Nott."

Smiling at my own joke, I went back to my task of making the tips of my eyelashes touch just below my eyebrow, "He gave me a bottle of perfume the last time I visited Tori for dinner."

"Did he now?" Harry asked the creamy soft skin on the side of my neck.

I hummed in quiet agreement, capping the bottle. Turning this way and that, I satisfied my need to make my glamour face perfect and went to work putting ringlets in my hair with my wand. As Harry stepped back, and subsequently out of the way, he met my eyes again, cheeks red. With anger or with embarrassment, I never knew.

"Did he say…anything else?" He asked, rubbing his hand over his five o'clock shadow.

"Not really. Just that it was a thank you gift for spending so much time at his home." I skillfully made my voice as blasé as possible, twirling my hair round and round the nine inch stick. "Since Toria's just so tired all the time with the due date just around the corner, I've been helping around their house."

"Helping? You?" I didn't have to look up from examining the ends of my perfectly curled ringlet to see the incredulous look on his stupid face.

"Yes, Potter, _help-ing_. It's that thing that nice fellows like you do, just for the heck of it. You know. Helping."

"Oh, I know what helping is, Draco. I just didn't think that you did."

_Fuck you, Harry._ "Well, I do. Moreover, I've been doing it. Loads of times."

Giving up on curling the back of my hair by hand, I merely chanted a basic hair spell that Tori had given me that duplicated the style of the front, in the back. I spritzed my finished product with a non-sticky, twelve hour holding spray, extraordinarily pleased with the final product. As I picked up a tube of sinfully red lipstick, Harry spoke up again.

"Where're you going all dressed up like that, 'Co?"

"Out." I deliberately kept my answer short as I ran the lipstick over my mouth slowly, outlining the contours in a seductive fashion.

"With whom?" He'd noticed that I was finished with my hair and approached me again with a determined look in his wide, expressive eyes.

I counted to five in my head, then turned around to peer into my husband's face without a shred of guilt or remorse on my perfect, pouty face. He looked livid, but only Harry Potter livid, which to normal people, was simply annoyed.

"With Theo, Harry. And before you ask, no, Tori isn't coming too. She's much too tired to go out at night and Theo bought tickets to go see a Muggle play at the Gershwin Theatre in New York. I couldn't possibly have let them go to waste, so I volunteered to take her place."

I smiled inside when I shouldered past Harry, seeing the stricken look of horror frozen on his face. Exiting the bathroom and fairly floating into the closet, I cautiously pulled the short black dress I'd laid out over my head, trying to preserve my hair and lips. It was simple, but elegant; the front was ruffled, giving the impression of some kind of bust and the hemline fell several inches above my knees, showing off my long, shapely legs.

"You aren't going to that theater, Draco." Figures that he'd shadow me in.

"Oh, but, I am. And afterwards, I'll go out to dinner in Wizarding Paris. It'll be a nice change from planning this….f-f-fantastic party."

I'd meant to drop a well placed f-bomb, but the word had evidently been placed on the list of "spiteful" words that I wasn't allowed to use. I walked over to my shoes and retrieved a pair of black rounded toe wedges that emphasized the sleek muscles of my calves.

"Then why don't you and I go out? It'll be just as fun and you wouldn't have to keep up the girl charade with me."

I bent over to tuck my heels into the shoes before facing Potter with a bland, nearly scolding look upon my face.

"I think not; it'd be far too rude for me to duck out on him with such short notice."

I turned to my jewelry cabinet and plucked a pair of teardrop pearl earrings off the little satin pillow they had been resting on. Holding them up to the light, I shook my head and put them back in their place, picking up a pair of dangling grey sapphire earrings in their stead.

"Well, it's rude to me for you to just disappear into the night without so much as a 'How do you do?'."

Looking into the mirror as I fastened my jewelry, I huffed out a sigh, "It's barely seven o'clock. It's not as though I'm planning on staying the night at their home, Harry."

"I'm serious, Draco. I want you home by midnight. Not a minute later."

I ignored him, focusing instead, on loosening the wedding band on my left ring finger.

"Why are you removing your ring?" A touch of hysteria colored his voice along with the hint of jealousy that had been edging in ever since he'd walked into the house that afternoon.

"It doesn't match my outfit, Harry. I can't have jewelry that clashes."

With a final tug on my slender finger, I slipped it off and into the glass case I always put it in when I removed it.

"You're wearing the sapphire earrings, though! They match the grey ones in your ring perfectly." Harry exclaimed, exasperated.

"Yes, but not the emeralds, Harry."

I went on to grab the soft satin clutch that matched the bow on my shoes, shoving my wallet, a pack of gum, a travel wand, and my lipstick inside.

"I'll be leaving now. Don't forget to feed yourself; there's meat and veggies and whatever else you might need inside of the refrigerator."

I strutted over to where Harry was standing motionlessly by the entrance to our walk-in and kissed the air beside both of his cheeks twice. I lifted a hand slowly to the side of his face, gripping his jawline, my nails barely pressing into his skin.

"Don't wait up." I commanded teasingly, a challenging look in my eyes.

I scrunched his face up, forcibly puckering Harry's lips and planted a feather light kiss on them, leaving the tiniest hint of red color.

* * *

><p>I moaned wantonly as I rose up and down, bouncing myself on Harry's cock, my barely there curls flopping up and down with me.<p>

"Oh gods, Draco! Yeah!" he yelled enthusiastically, tightening his grip on the folds of fabric resting on my trim waist, thrusting up with me.

Ignoring my bedmate, I resettled myself, grinding back and forth on Harry's cock. The steady on-off pressure on my prostate felt beyond heavenly, rocketing me to my orgasm far faster than when Harry was in control. I should be grateful he hadn't locked me in a tower or something. It was a wonder that we were having sex at all though, given the way I'd been received when I walked in.

* * *

><p>I'd come home just after one in the morning, a little tipsy and slightly worse for the wear. My normally pin-straight hair had begun to fall and my eyes looked a little shadowed from tiredness. The moment I'd stepped on the door, Harry had set upon me, rubbing his hands slowly up and down my body as though he could sense whether or not some other man had put his hands on me. Obviously he could when he yanked me into the bedroom, demanding why he felt six other men's signatures on me.<p>

I flopped down on our bed, tossing my travel wand in the general direction of the trashcan and waving the real one at my glamour to clean up the image, removing the sloppy traces of eyeliner and mascara.

"I'm waiting." He ground out, crossing his arms to make himself more menacing.

"Did you ever think, p'rhaps, that I went out dancing, too? Maybe I didn't want to just sit down while everyone else had a good time twirling around with their partners." I fought to make my voice steady; the four or five drinks I'd consumed earlier that evening didn't really help with that at all. "I deserve to have fun sometimes, Harry! I can't just sit around here waiting to get preggers; I'll go mad!"

"Then why not read a book? Or go for a walk?" He tossed his hands up in a clear show of frustration.

I stood, glowering up at the stubborn man in front of me. "Because I don't want to be trapped in this house for the rest of my life with little reprieves now and then. I want to lead my own life, Potter, not just an extension of yours. I'm my own person."

A slow wicked smile started on his face, a sure sign that he'd had a few drinks of his own that night, most likely with the Weasel, who was still celebrating his promotion at the Ministry of Magic.

"But you aren't your own person, Draco. You're _mine_."

Unthinkingly, I reached up to strike him across the face. With his honed Auror reflexes plus his natural Seeker skill, I should have expected to fail. He caught my wrist, bending it backwards just enough to hurt.

Through clenched teeth, I hissed, partly in anger and partly in pain. "Let. Me. Go."

He shook his head, chuckling at me. I wasn't sure where he got the raw nerve to actually laugh in my face, but I knew that I didn't care for it. The Harry that I'd been pushing for the last two months clearly wasn't the Harry that was towering over me right now.

"How about you give me a little kiss first? After all, you do owe me after that little stunt you tried to pull."

He tried to pull me closer, though I dug my heels deep into the cream-colored carpet. Shaking his head at me again, he muttered under his breath, causing me to rise no more than four inches into the air. I scowled at him, tucking my lips under my teeth. With another vaguely villainous laugh, he rolled his eyes at me.

"That was an order, Princess."

Suddenly, the part of me that was able to resist Harry's indirect commands snapped, pursing my lips out obligingly for him. With a steady chant of curse words going round and round my head, I watched Harry draw closer with wide eyes. His hand slipped from my wrist to catch at my elbow, steadying me, while his other hand made itself at home on my lower back, pushing my pelvis toward his, where I could see "Little Harry" was becoming very interested in the proceedings.

"Hey!" I cried, "this isn't fair, Harry!"

As much as I tried, I couldn't pull away from the overwhelming force. I could stall it, though, as an attempt to talk some sense into him. It worked; he did pause for a moment.

"Newsflash, Draco. Life isn't fair. Ever. If it were, neither of us would be here. I wouldn't have a scar on my forehead and both of our parents would still be alive. So deal with the cards you're dealt, my love." He kissed the top of my head, shooting me a gentle look, "and the cards I've been dealt with as of right now are looking pretty damn favorable."

He ran a few fingers through the silky blonde almost-curls dangling just over my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. He was searching for something, whether it was the true source of my animosity or forgiveness for what was going to transpire. Whatever it was, Harry seemed to locate it and carried on, securing a heavy hand behind my neck to drag his slightly chapped lips against mine.

The kiss was soft, but not gentle. The pressure of his mouth on mine was hard and desperate, a continuation of the search that his eyes had started. As his fingers bore down more upon the tender skin of my neck, his tongue fought for entry to my lips. It was unlike anything we'd shared since his declaration, all bitter and regretful but determined. If I were to give it a flavor it would be one not unlike that of a properly made keylime pie.

The longer I held out against him, the more agitated Harry grew, even grabbing my bare bicep to squeeze, obviously trying to make me gasp and therefore open my mouth, but until he gave the order and actually _forced_ me to accept his tongue into my face, I'd stand firm. Harry and the world had taken a lot from me: my freedom, my family, my wand, my happiness, even my freewill. However, one thing they could _not_ take away was my stubbornness; I'd resist Harry subtly until the day I died if it meant causing him trouble. I knew that it was wearing him down and pissing him off, but I couldn't help it, I just wanted to give him the middle finger as much as I could with the dumbass restrictions he'd placed upon my person.

All at once, Harry broke away from me, scowling and flushed, breaths heaving out of his chest as though he'd been flying for hours.

"Fine, we'll do this your way. Take your clothes off."

My body jolted as it recognized an explicit command and my fingers automatically reached down to my hemline to pull my dress up and over my head. I shot Harry what I believe was a very convincing hurt and angry look as I divested myself of the sinfully soft clothing and began toeing off my very expensive, very painful shoes.

"I hope you know that I'll hay-h-ha-have to continue to bear a grudge against you if you don't quit this nonsense right now, Auror Potter."

Harry wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the words that were spilling shakily out of my mouth, instead focused on the pale bits of skin that I'd unwillingly revealed by following my instructions. He had that look on his face, the one that meant his mouth was watering on the inside and that I had no chance in hell of dissuading him from fucking me.

"Do I look like I give a good goddamn?" he curled his lips up at me, spelling his own shoes to his side of the closet. "Leave your underwear on and come undress Daddy like a good girl, hmm?"

I'd been just about to peel my silky pink panties down when he issued the statement, but froze and walked stiffly the few inches closer. The request had been just that- a request, stated in the form of a question instead of as an order that I had to obey. Regardless, his declaration had been laid down on me for the remainder of the party planning time and wished for me to obey Harry completely, even if it wasn't strictly necessary.

"C'mere, Coco." He crooned at me, that seductive smirk never leaving his face, taking my tiny hands in his and bringing them to the buttons of his shirt. "Start here."

Mechanically and systematically, my fingers moved swiftly down the front of the button-up, revealing more and more of his broad, tanned chest. Heavy breaths dragged out from his chest and he gazed down at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"You wanna play with Daddy, Coco? Make Daddy feel good, baby?" A hand reached up and plucked a wavy almost-ringlet.

"I know you do, honey, but," the unfathomable expression left and I knew instantly what he was going to make me do, "I want you to tell me. Come on, Coco, tell me how much you want to bounce on my cock."

The response was nearly instantaneous.

"Oh, fuck, I wanna bounce on your cock so bad! I want it so far in me that I can't breathe anymore! I want you to stick it in me t'il it chokes me." I begged shamelessly and breathlessly, miserable tears leaking onto my cheeks, "Please, please Daddy will you let me have your big fat cock in my slutty little hole? Please?"

Harry knocked my knees out from under me and deposited me heavily onto our bed, leaning over me predatorily.

"Well, honey, since you begged so prettily." He reached behind him and drew his wand out of his back pocket, "Now, let me see that tiny little hole I'm supposed to be getting inside."

He waved it carelessly, removing the last vestiges of my clothing.

"C'mon, bunny." He flipped me over none too gently and took hold of my hips, dragging my lower body up until I was kneeling with my arse in front of his face. "Stay still for Daddy, yeah?"

His breath ghosted across my trembling hole and I shivered. It was going to happen. Harry was going to end up fucking me before the night was over, so why fight him? I'd much prefer a gentle session to him lording his power and authority while heaving and thrusting over me.

"Yeah." I breathed, folding my arms and resting my head sideways on them.

His soft, puckered lips met the skin of my left arse cheek and a soothing hum tickled the sensitive flesh. I shifted my weight a bit, anxious for the real pleasure to begin. Soft kittenish licks came next, lapping at my skin as though he couldn't get enough of the texture. I let out an answering hum of contentment, closing my eyes so that I could properly enjoy the experience. The little licks turned into strong strokes that took up more and more surface area, lighting my nerves on fire with anticipation. He paused in his Draco-devouring and moved back, replacing the side of his whiskered face with a calloused palm that began rubbing slow circles on my pert bottom.

"You like that, baby? You like it when Daddy gives you rewards?"

"Uh-huh. I love it when Daddy gives his baby rewards." I scooted back a fraction, pushing my arse into the comforting but arousing hand.

"Oh, but does my baby deserve a reward tonight?" The previously loving hand came down upon me sharply, a loud smack echoing through the warm, empty room. "Does she? After running off with another man and coming home with the signature of others? After ignoring her Daddy for weeks and taking off her wedding ring, does she deserve my tongue on her filthy little opening?"

While freakishly hot, his dirty talk was demeaning. Plus the blow to my poor defenseless bottom _hurt_. The man didn't know his own strength sometimes.

He peppered a few more moderate to light (by Harry's measurement) smacks on the reddening area before addressing me again, "Baby? Daddy wants an answer." He punctuated the end of his sentence with another slap right on top of my crack.

I cried out, my cock swinging forward from the force and stabbing into my navel. Gee, didn't _that_ feel delightful. Well, the spanking wasn't so bad; I had an authority kink and Harry got his rocks off by being able to dominate me, but the cock to the belly wasn't all that fun.

"No, Daddy." I choked out, my fingers digging into my biceps with the power I had to use to restrain myself from popping Harry right back. "I don't deserve it."

"_I_ know you don't, baby doll. And so do you, Astoria, and Theo. But I love you anyway, silly goose, and I'm gonna fuck you with my tongue and fingers." A delicious moan reverberated in my chest, "Not because you love it, but because I do. I love watching you come apart while I taste your sweet tang on my tongue."

A few more strikes to the surely burgundy skin and he was finished with the makeshift punishment. True to his word, he carefully spread my cheeks and laid a playful, sweet peck dead in the center of my entrance. I moaned, throaty and low, arching my back at the fleeting kiss on my sensitive pucker. Encouraged, Harry licked an unhurried stripe up then down my crack, pausing at my hole to stab at it , nearly breaching it with a flick of the pointed muscle.

"Oh, gods." I groaned, tentatively reaching back and threading my long, painted fingers through the silky black locks to semi-anchor him to my ass, not knowing whether he would give me a smack for it or not.

Harry nearly went into a frenzy, kicking up his pace, spit dripping down the inside of my cheeks to my balls. The cool, wet feeling pricking on my perineum had me squirming around, barely able to keep on my knees, especially when he rolled his tongue up and began steadily pushing it past the ring of tight muscles.

"F-fuck Harry!" I whined, clenching my fistful of his hair and grinding my ass back on his face.

He broke away from my hold to look at me hungrily, both of our eyes glazed over, the bottom half of his face glistening in the dim lighting of our bedroom.

"I love it when you call out my name, baby. It's so hot when you scream for me. You're just so fucking beautiful."

"Yeah?" I panted, my bottom lip pinned beneath my top teeth.

"Yeah." He confirmed, before reaching out and freeing my lip with his thumb.

The smidgeon of red that remained on my lips transferred onto his finger, leaving a rose-colored smear. He stared at it, nearly transfixed, then grasped me by my hips, where there would surely be tiny blue finger marks tomorrow, flipping me over and onto his lap, his heavy cock slotting itself just above my hole. I wriggled halfheartedly, but wrapped my arms and legs around Harry, my fingers burrowing back into the soft strands. He pressed his lips to mine once, twice, three times, but before either of us could deepen it, backed away, shaking his head.

"I told you I was going to finger you before I fucked you, didn't I?" he whispered to my cheek.

I keened, my hole giving a twitch and a spurt of precome oozed out of my cock. He lifted his hand and lewdly slicked his thick middle finger up, his eyes dark and face flushed. Following his finger's path to my ass with cock-hungry eyes, I writhed when he pushed it hastily in me, already curling his finger up to stroke my prostate. I sunk my sharpened nails into his scalp, screwing my eyes closed at the too-sharp pleasure. It felt like too much and not enough and far too dry, but at the same time _perfect_. He sensed my slight discomfort and wordlessly summoned the bottle of slick we keep in the bottom drawer. Instead of removing his digit, the bottle tipped just above my crack, drizzling the sticky wet substance onto the rest of the fingers on his hand. Changing pace, he shoved his ring and index finger into me, effectively loosening the muscles just enough for the actual cock to ass penetration not to be exceedingly painful, which was good enough for me.

"Harry," I licked my dry lips, trying to look as fetching as humanly possible, "just put it in me. I can't wait any more."

I felt his heart rate kick up through his neck, and suddenly my world was being slanted. Harry had lain back on the fluffy pillows of our bed, looking down at me with cloudy emerald eyes.

"You want me so bad, Princess?" he rubbed the remainder of the lube onto his violently red cock, "Ride me."

I hastily scrambled back from the position I'd landed in, taking hold of my lover in one hand and positioning him at my entrance. The blunt force of the huge head stung, but was thankfully familiar. I could feel every beautiful, thick inch as it entered my body, stretching me to accommodate his above average girth. At last, his fuzzy pubic hairs met my still sore bottom, and I sighed in relief that there was no more left to take. His large hands situated themselves on my prominent hipbones, a few of my golden strands of hair accidentally getting caught with them. Harry leered at me and, in a sex-drenched voice, commanded:

"Bounce for me, baby."

* * *

><p>Blinking into consciousness the next morning, I couldn't help the wide grin that was spread across my face. Harry, likewise, looked very sated and warm and loveable. The sex had been wonderful as it always was, and I had fallen asleep relaxed as I always do, and everything felt like the way it did before things got all wonky. Before Harry and I started fighting. I cooed in delight; Harry and I were going to work on our marriage and have all those little kids that we both want and live happily ever after, like in the second year of our marriage. Back when the sex was loud and frequent. Back before- my stomach clenched as it came rushing back, wrecking my morning after glow. Before the party. The party that I had been planning for months. Today's party. Oh. Shit.<p> 


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